Infinity on High
by Benino-Chun-Sa
Summary: AU "...wild, brash, unrelenting and boundless with energy. And so freaking unattainable it hurt. Besides, his heart belonged to someone else." RiSo and others
1. Thriller

**Beni-Chuu's Note(s):**

**Disclaimer:** Square Enix owns Square Enix—not me. I hope you get that checked in the next ten years, though, because it'll be mine. –insert evil cackle-

At least, that's what's on my To Do List Before I Die.

Plus, I don't own the lyrics of "You're Crashing, But You're No Wave" by Fall Out Boy.

**HELP WANTED:** I need a beta reader who has plenty of time to not be stressed over some pages worth of chapters. Please, and thank you. Just email me through or leave a review with your email so I may contact you for further information.

**Warning(s):** This contains strong language and suggestive themes. Slight or maybe more than slight indications of shounen-ai may also pop out of nowhere.

**Thanks:** To those who review. Or at least glance at this for a moment, or two.

**End.**

_-_

**Thriller **

-

"_I can never be like you! I can't be happy—I can't pretend all the time!"_

_That night…if I had been a little bit more considerate…and had realized what you meant by those words…would you still be alive now?_

_-_

"Oh, look!"

His head only inclined a little higher from his bowl of cereal. The flakes were soggy already, just swimming in the milk. He pushed the bowl away, placing the spoon beside it.

"Another one—colleges are sure scouting you out, honey!"

Hadn't she said that before already? He only stared her down with his sea-blue eyes, taking the large envelope from her hands. The envelope was crisp, nothing too special. They were all the same to him anyway. So he ripped that one up as well.

Each strip, each stroke of the hand, another tear fell from his mother's eyes. But he didn't care.

Sora just couldn't care anymore.

-

_Don't you get it? Mom… Dad… Anybody?_

-

No one quite understood when he began to change. Maybe it was the start of high school. Everyone is apprehensive and anxious during that time in his or her life, right?

That's what all the adults said—even his parents said it themselves. And they thought he couldn't hear them, their concealed whispers in groups.

Well, it was going to happen sooner or later, right?

That's what all his friends were saying as they drifted from him. He was like a disease—back away or you might catch it as well. There was no surprises or secrets about him.

"Did you hear?"

"Man, I can't believe it…"

"I even heard he tried to kill himself after the funeral."

"Whoa, is he crazy? He needs a fucking therapist or something!"

"Heard he already has one."

"And?"

"…_They_ can't even help him."

What a bunch of fake losers who don't even have the balls to say such things to his face. All they do is smile and wave, a little pity here and there. It made him almost want to puke. It was sickening. They were sickening.

Of course he was going to change sooner or later, right?

-

_"I'm not invincible, you know. I have the right to change, too."_

"_Who said anybody had the right to do anything—even live?"_

-

His appearance used to fool everybody. The awkward posture, the cheery smile, perked cheeks, spiky hair that would never be tamed by a comb—it just fooled them all. And Sora was glad it did. It had been easier that way, to hide behind his cinnamon bangs. The smile could conceal one or two tearful frowns along the way. A crest-fallen face was never something acceptable or usual to manifest his façade.

Until that day, when someone did find out.

-

_"You're acting as if that's a bad thing, you know, to live."_

"_And what if I am?"_

_-_

"Hey, Sora!"

That voice—Sora knew it all too well. And he purposely walked faster than needed down the corridor.

"Sora! I know you can hear me!"

He did, and he didn't. He hadn't been quite himself lately—not in the sense everyone is thinking, but his mind hadn't been stable.

"Sora, I'm going to chase you down!"

No, his thoughts only blocked the droning from the teachers, the half-hearted scolding from his parents, the chattering in-between classes. What was worth to pay attention these days for a sophomore?

"Sora, dude!"

A flash of gold and black obscured Sora's vision, and he felt his esophagus had been ripped from his body. He tried to pry the scrawny arm that trapped his throat, only to have the grip tighten.

"What…the…_HELL_?" Sora gasped between breaths.

The person let go, allowing Sora to at least catch his breath, glaring at his attacker. Said attacker had spiky blond hair curved to one direction. Wearing a black shirt with a white skull on the center and dark, ripped jeans Roxas lifted the corner of his lips into what was supposed to be a smile.

Sora saw right through him and his actions. "If you have something you want to talk about to me just say it to my face."

Roxas shrugged. "Yep, Kairi and the others said you'd be nasty like this."

"And what else have they been gossiping about behind my back?"

Roxas was taken aback. Sora guessed no one was still not accustomed to his "venomous tongue." Sora chuckled to himself on how he thought of such a title for his new attitude. "You…you don't have to be so—"

"Impolite? Sarcastic?" Sora interjected. "Or maybe this is the real me and I didn't want to be another fake conformist like the rest of the world?" Sora inclined his whole entire body so as to not be facing his one good friend. "Huh, Roxas, tell me how you feel about this…_change_ in personality?"

"Sora, I'm—no—_we_'re all worried about you."

"You think I haven't noticed?" He had—it was only because it was natural to notice these kinds of things sometimes. Those who couldn't tell were either denying it to lighten the burden of guilt or were just too ignorant to even notice.

The other boy took one step closer, cautiously as if he didn't even know what kind of territory he was stepping upon. "You're being such a whiny bitch, too!"

"Ha, thanks for the compliment." He began to walk away. He didn't need this, and neither did Roxas.

A small part of the brunette felt guilty. Maybe just _this_ much, but that was it. Their friendship had practically ended the beginning of the new school year. It was around the time when she and him had been together and were already starting to drift apart. Typical was what Sora had first thought of it. Everything was typical to him at the time—there's always a time to start to not care about the people who used to excite a room. It gets too boring after awhile.

Roxas called after Sora for quite some time until he too gave up. Without turning back over his shoulders, Sora marched on.

"You know, I hope you know that _he_'s hurting too, along with the rest of us!"

At that, Sora did spin around, but Roxas had already taken off to run towards the opposite direction. Sora was left with a befuddled feeling deep in the pit of his stomach.

Or was that his heart just exploding and sinking in his ribcage?

-

"_So you _want_ to die?"_

"…_Perhaps, if I find the convenient time and place to do that."_

"…"

"_Do you think I'm crazy?"_

"_Would it matter if I did?"_

"_Funny, I never heard a response like that before."_

_-_

He didn't know when it started, the stupid, giddy feelings that suddenly erupted inside him. Maybe it only came with the package called hormones. Nothing had changed about Riku—boy with slightly long white hair and serious turquoise eyes. Sora was the one who changed.

Walking around the school was hard while the brunette tried to avoid Riku. He had to blend in with the rest of the crowd yet he still stood out. The quiet whispering, the quick glances over his direction, he noticed all. And he thought Riku was one of them as well.

Something else had bothered Sora whenever he passed Riku's line-of-vision; he had felt like this since they met.

Riku somehow knew. He knew _everything_.

_-_

"_Huh?"_

"_Usually people would shun a person who considers suicidal thoughts normal, unless they can relate. Are _you_ suicidal?"_

_"…No."_

"_Hmm, a long pause, but I guess that could be a good answer for someone who wants to live."_

_"You're changing the subject."_

_"…"_

_"Do you want to die? And why is it funny that it'd matter if I thought you were crazy?"_

_-_

It was stupid how they met. It was last year, in the cafeteria located at the far end of the school.

Sora had neatly placed his tray next to his group of friends, ready to munch of the greasy foods called "lunch," when someone had bumped into his elbow.

The opened milk carton that was beside his hand tipped over with the reflex, milk spilling over the elbow-bumper person's jeans.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I—" Sora quickly grabbed some napkins from someone's offering hand and began wiping away the mess.

"Just leave it. They're already ruined so you're just wasting yours and my goddamned time." The voice was rich with both maturity and apathy. Nothing Sora had ever heard, and yet it sounded something he was already used to.

Only then did Sora notice Riku's deep eyes. They weren't quite blue or weren't quite green either. It was just a mixture of the two, swirled into orbs that seemed to see through the soul, Sora's soul.

_What soul?_ was what popped into the brunette's mind.

"Oh…" Sora's hand fell back to his side.

Riku inclined his head to the side, looking down at the younger boy. There seemed to be nothing but a scowl marking his features.

A shiver ran down Sora's spine. What was this boy doing to him?

Abruptly, Riku leaned down, being six-one while Sora only a mere five-nine, close enough that his words left a burning breath upon Sora's ear. "Don't fuck with me ever again."

Sora's cheeks burned. He slowly closed his eyes, hoping to disappear.

That was that. Riku walked off to the opposite of the room, milk splattered over his jeans.

Sora had only realized last week that Riku had never worn those jeans after that incident

_He hates me_, Sora though. _He really hates me._

_-_

"_Not sane?"_

_"Shut up and answer the question."_

_"Question_s_, to be more specific."_

_"Answer me."_

_"Man, you're fucking impatient."_

_"Naminé…when have you ever cussed?"_

_-_

Maybe hate was just a strong word. Maybe Sora was only exaggerating. After all, Riku had talked a little to him after coming back to school from a two-day absence.

"Sorry to hear about that one girl."

It wasn't like the other people's remarks whenever they came up to him. No remorse laced his words to sugarcoat the real meaning behind what he really wanted to say. No pity in his voice.

Only a flat apology that didn't even sound like an apology. It was a statement, maybe a sentence he was forced to say since Sora was now the "poor student everyone else has to comfort."

At least Riku didn't feel obligated to say it, but either way, Sora still felt a sting from his words. Was this what his friends felt when his "venomous tongue" flicked at their way?

Today, however, Sora never felt such strong emotions since _that_ happened until he was cornered by his upperclassmen in the library.

_-_

"_Now _you_'re changing the subject…"_

_"Are you acting like this because we've broken up?"_

"_Sora, this has nothing to do with our past with each other. I'm over it. I get it. You didn't even like me."_

_"That's not true!"_

"…_Don't give me that stupid look. You know I hate it. You still do know, don't you?"_

_-_

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Riku's demand was sudden and surprised Sora to the fullest.

"Excuse me, but I don't know what you're talking about." There it was, his shield that he had to put around him so as to not let others see his weaknesses, his flaws. "I'm only here because I'm looking for a book."

"Drop the excuses, Sora."

Sora froze, his eyes widened. The book that he took from the shelf before Riku trapped him between the wall and his body was pressed against his chest. His hands were trembling, or they felt like it to him.

This was the first time Riku actually acknowledged his first name, let alone acknowledge his whole existence for more than a minute.

The older boy came forward, until only a few inches remained for the space between them. The proximity almost suffocated Sora, but he dare not look away from Riku's piercing eyes.

Riku placed his hands on the wall, on the opposite sides of Sora's head. "You're hiding it, I know you are."

Sora kept quiet. He waited, but nothing came to mind in a way to escape. He was really trapped.

"Since day one, I've noticed how you crumbled into this state. I think everyone's noticed. They just don't want to admit that the naïve boy whose happiness never seemed to deter collapse into…_this_."

"What's 'this'?" Sora spat. Every second with this guy was making Sora seethe. "I don't know the fuck you're talking about. Now excuse me," Sora added. "I need to get going home—"

That's when Sora was slammed right back against the wall. He yelped in agony, but clamped his teeth before the cry escaped his lips. He wouldn't let Riku see him like this. He wouldn't let him in.

Riku's eyes narrowed, his grip around Sora's arms tightened. "You've been pissing me off lately with that stupid self-pitying of yours." Sora managed to not wince as much as he wanted to. "It's been pissing off everyone, especially me."

"So? What does that have to do with—?"

The older boy's fingers had pierced deep enough to finally make Sora break. However, his eyes began to soften as he spoke. "I can see right through you…all I ever see these days is pain…sorrow…guilt…"

Sora shook his head, shaking under Riku's grip.

_No, this wasn't happening, it couldn't be happening. Not now, not ever!_

"You would never understand…" whimpered Sora, fighting back the tears. "You would never know what kind of things—the pains—I had to go through after she… after she…"

"You can't even say it yourself, Sora, so how can _you_ even understand?"

_Until now, maybe Riku was right_, thought Sora. _Maybe _I_ don't even understand what had happened over a year ago. That night…_

_-_

_"Naminé, I'm sorry."_

"_Sora…"_

"_So please, tell me. _Are_ you planning to kill yourself?"_

"_Heh, you've figured me all out. What a smart kid."_

_"You have definitely changed, Nami…"_

"_SHUT UP! I'm sick of everyone's bullshit! I'm not that stupid, sheltered, naïve Christian-freak I've been molded into since birth! I'm not like you, Sora! I can never be like you! I can't be happy—I can't pretend all the time!"_

_-_

_She then suddenly collapsed to her knees, choking and coughing and holding onto her stomach for dear life. For her dear life._

_She removed her hand from her lips, and gasped. I froze. "Blood?"_

_Blood between her fingers and on her palm was something we both weren't expecting. At least, that was what I was hoping for. Now that I look back at it, maybe it was only the latter._

-

"NO!"

Sora finally unlatched himself from Riku's grasp. The book plummeted as Sora's feet stomped between the mazes of bookshelves. Even if he had ran all the way out and from the double metal doors, he couldn't escape. The sounds of Riku's shoes clomping the ground in rhythm of his own two feet told him.

He knew that all too well.

Therefore he stopped, realizing that his surroundings were familiar. The swing set with the lonely, squeaky swings, the various other playground equipment plastered on multiple parts of the area. The flowers that were just randomly placed in the center with the benches on the side were something he could easily recognized a mile away.

He was at the park not too far from the library where Naminé and he had once shared fond memories.

"_I'm going to jump farther than you!"_

It had only been a competition between the two on who could jump the farthest from the swings. A simple, cliché thing you did whenever you were at the park. It was something they always did, before it happened.

The memory, like a stitch coming undone, pained him so, pinched at the soul. The brunette collapsed down to his knees, leaning forward. Bile rose in his throat as he recalled the swirling memories that came crashing down like waves. His fingers curled around the blades of grass.

"Sora…"

The said boy tensed at the voice. This wasn't how everything was supposed to happen, he told himself. At least, that's what he was hoping for.

"_But wishing is for the weak and of the too hopeful."_

"Sora, everyone can see your pain, you know." It was then Sora felt soft arms embrace around his shoulders, holding to a grip that he couldn't surpass. Lips by his ear whispered something or was it just hot air passing through his eardrums?

"I can see your pain… And it hurts _me_." His voice was quieter than usual.

_But his words were still piercing my ears, my heart, my whole body…_

_-_

_Then_ it _happened._

_Naminé fell to her side, and not only her body dropped, but the bottle of sleeping pills she took fell from her person._

_I didn't know what to do but drop to my knees as well. Her arm with the bloody hand was the closest body part to me. I probed a hand to her shoulder, shaking it. It felt distinctively cold compared to her warm room..._

-

"And even if you were to hide that pain away someplace so no one else can see the ugliness, the hurt… If you were to leave it alone, it becomes heavy…so heavy…not even _you_ can hold it."

Riku's body pressed against Sora's back was not making the situation any comfortable, but Sora didn't complain, didn't retort, didn't snap at the older boy.

Because he knew he didn't—_couldn't _want Riku off of him.

_He was right…every word… Was the truth that hard to listen to, Riku? 'Cause it seems to be difficult for me._

-

_"Okay, Naminé, quite playing around!" I thought this was just some stupid joke to get back at me. After all, I thought I had broken her heart. But I knew…_

"So please, tell me. _Are_ you planning to kill yourself?"

_Oh. My. _God.

_-_

"Sora, never forget…"

"I want to" _is what I want to say._ "I didn't mean to" _was going to be my apology. But my mouth was dry from spit and my brain worked faster than my mouth at the moment. So I only cried, tears plopping onto my knuckles that grasped the ground._

_I turned around in Riku's hold, still hesitate if I really wanted someone to see me like this._

"Sora…" His voice was pleading. His eyes didn't contain an ounce of pity, and that scared the other boy.

_It was then his lips landed on mine._

-

"_NAMINÉ! GET UP!" I screamed. The house was empty. How stupid were her parents to leave to church and leaving their only child at home? Did they know? Hadn't they noticed?_

_Then again, had _I_ noticed it?_

"SHUT UP! I'm sick of everyone's bullshit! I'm not that stupid, sheltered, naïve Christian girl I've been molded since birth! I'm not like you, Sora! I can never be like you! I can't be happy—I can't pretend all the time!"

_And there had been my warning. I should have seen it, should have stopped her. But I couldn't._

_-_

His lips let Sora's go, only to say, "Don't forget her. Don't forget yourself."

_How hard was it to say the words that I truly wanted to say since then, since the beginning?_

_-_

_I failed as both a boyfriend and a friend to her for the longest of times. I never realized it, but tears were brimming my eyes. My entire body was trembling with grief._

_I scooted closer to the limp body. Picking her up from her lying position, I wrapped my small arms around her body. Even with her pressed against my chest, my heart beating against her body, it wouldn't warm her up. _

_I held her tightly. It was all I could do… All I could _ever_ do for her. _

-

"Sora…?"

Sora quickly stumbled forward to Riku's chest, burying his tear-covered face into Riku's dark hoodie. He felt the warmth he used to feel around Naminé, only this time it felt more real, more alive.

"I didn't mean for her to kill herself! I wanted to save her too! But…" Sora choked, clutching Riku's waist tighter. "I was scared!" The tears didn't stop there, and the confessions didn't, either. "I thought I had it all figured it… To think because she—she wouldn't be contemplating about things like…like…"

But no one had to have Sora finish his sentence. Suicide isn't something someone can talk about so easily if they have ever had to experience something like_ that_. Besides, friends don't commit suicide. They just don't.

Right?

Sora cried harder. However, his arms wrapped around Riku's waist faltered to his sides. "…I can't, Riku… I can't be this, or anything."

And that was that. Sora composed himself long enough to get to his feet simultaneously as Riku and walk, brushing Riku's shoulders. The slight touch brought a sizzling sensation throughout his nervous system. Despite that, nothing was going to stop his constant stride for home.

Although, the hand that gripped his wrist had other ideas.

"Do you really think you've solved anything yet, huh?" exclaimed Riku in an abrasive tone.

Sora bit his lip, using the back of his hand to wipe away stray tears. "Let go." His voice was shaky from the crying which didn't help him with the effect he was going for. "Just let go, Riku."

"No." The response was cold, full of power. Sora didn't have to glance over his shoulder to notice the smoldering turquoise eyes glaring holes into his back.

"You're being a dumbass if you really believe that you have everything under control. How passive are you? You can't solve everything by yourself—that's fucking selfish. Aren't there people who care about you—about how you're handling all this?"

Sora stood still for a moment, almost not breathing. Then, a silent "If anyone cared, I wouldn't be like this, right?" came out from his parted lips.

With that, Riku shut his mouth, for no words came out, only he callously wrenched Sora's wrist from his clutch.

"Fuck you," Riku spat. He turned around, trudging along the pavement, hands in pockets. "Fuck you." His footsteps disappeared along with the sun that began to drift towards the horizon, Sora noticed.

The clouds were defined in an orange hue that reflected the new tears forming in Sora's blue eyes.

_Why…?_ he thought. _Why did Riku kiss me? Why did he come after me when no one else has? And why, for God knows why, does my chest hurt so badly?_

_-_

The walk home was a long one for the brunette, at least, that's what he thought. He could barely see behind his blurry eyes. When he arrived home—the normal house that looked like everyone else's in the neighborhood—he was bombed with too many questions, they gave him a headache.

"Where were you? It's almost five o'clock—you should have been back thirty minutes ago. Where's the book you had to get? Honey, what's wrong with your eyes—they're red—what's wrong? Why don't you tell me anymore!"

He slammed the bedroom door on his mother's face. Everything was meaningless, regardless if he confessed all of it to her.

The door banged against his back, vibrating from the weight of his mother's fists.

As if he could tell her that it was his fault that Naminé's parents don't attend church meetings any more, or that he didn't go to her funeral because he couldn't stand the sight of some lifeless corpse that had used to be his friend.

Or at least, he thought she was a friend… Was she?

All this and more swirled in his mind, adding to the confusion of his chaotic headache that almost made him slam his head against the wall. The thought, though, made a small smile seep into Sora's sweating face.

The stereo on top of his dresser was cranked up to the loudest it could get, drowning his mother's constant, harsh shrieking behind the door.

"…_to the nines  
In the mirror he practices all his lines  
To his closing argument twelve hearts beat in favor  
I'm guessing that he read the morning paper  
The headline reads, "the man hangs", but the jury doesn't"_

Maybe Sora could find the pills she took inside the bathroom. He began searching in the bathroom connected to his room, throwing and discarding laundry he forgot to put out for his mother and other toiletries. The medicine cabinet with the mirror door flung open, condiments flying this way and that.

"_Case open, case shut,  
But you could pay to close it like a casket  
Baby boy can't lift his headache head  
Isn't it tragic?"_

There, there it was. It wasn't the bottle of slipping pills he was looking for, but it was better.

Much_ better_.

"_He glances at his peers sitting seven to twelve stacked  
On one to six the gallery is hushed  
Boys in three pieces dream of grandstanding and bravado  
The city sleeps in a cell notwithstanding what we all know  
Hang on a rope or bated breath  
Whichever you prefer _

A bottle of aspirin Sora had to use when he was in some sport at school—was it baseball? He couldn't remember, since it was so long ago, so of course he had forgotten it was even in the cabinet.

And it was more convenient than having to search for some sleeping pills that probably weren't even present in the house.

"You're being a dumbass if you really believe that you have everything under control. How passive are you?"

Sora briefly thought about Riku's words, and laughed to himself. Who knew if he could have everything under control—even _he_ himself didn't know what he was doing.

The comatose laugh that had escaped from his chapped lips told him as much.

He dumped at least three, having the cautious, still scared, part of him still be attentive, into his opened palm. They weren't enough. In fact, he felt more alert.

So he took another three—four, maybe.

It didn't do the trick. Five more. Plus two, just because he felt like it.

"…_shut,  
But you could pay to close it like a casket  
Baby boy can't lift his headache head  
Isn't it tragic?"_

Drowsiness succumbed him for a brief period, but he could still pop at least a couple more into his dry mouth. His stomach had been rumbling some time ago, except it was worse around this time. Instead, it gurgled and flipped over too many times for him. His knees buckled, his palms sweat, yet he felt so alive at that moment.

This, he thought, this_ was what Naminé felt like when she took her own life, right, God? Right?_

And if there was a God to hear his thoughts, then there was certainly a God who watched the teenager corrode forward, coughing and hacking out spit mixed with vomit onto the bathroom rug.

"_Fresh pressed suit and tie  
Unimpressed birds sing and die  
Can talk my way out of anything  
The foreman reads the verdict  
'In the above entitled actions we find the defendant…'  
Guilty…Guilty…Guilty…Guilty…"_

God must have watched with care as the boy tumbled to the tiled floor, trembling vigorously as the music blared on from the other room. The Heavenly Father must have heard the door being banged opened, following a frantic mother stumbling into the bathroom, freezing at the sight of the boy—her only son—having foam spurting from his mouth, eyes rolled into his head.

The CD started to skip, repeating the chorus continuously, nonstop scratching from the stereo.

Our Father Who Art In Heaven most definitely heard the heart-wrenching scream that was subsequent to the scenes unfolding before their very own eyes.

"…_Baby boy can't lift his headache head  
Isn't it tragic?"_

-

_To be continued…_

_-_

**Beni-Chuu's Farewell(s):**

Ah, well. That was interesting to write. To be more specific, I think this was quite difficult to type up—too many references had to be used to get this right. If I'm even close enough, but still…

I just wanted to apologize for whatever terrible grammar structure that may have appeared in this chapter. Like I've said in advance, a beta reader is highly needed.

So, again, for those interested, please leave a review saying so, or leave your email so I can contact you more conveniently if you wish so.

Ah, yes, meant to tell you all that this is just the first part. Heh.

**End.**

"And everyone's looking for relief  
A bidding war for an old flame's grief  
The cause, the kid, the course, the charm, and the curse  
Not a word that could make you comprehend  
Too well dressed for the witness stand  
The press prays for whichever headline's worse"


	2. The Take Over, the Breaks Over

**Beni-Chuu's Note(s):**

**Disclaimer:** …Must I repeat the painful reminder that I don't even own an ounce of Square Enix? Not even _this_ much is mine—okay, maybe the _copy_ of one of their games. And maybe a picture here and there that I've—er—_burrowed_…

But you get my drift.

I do not own the lyrics of "Still Life" by Lost Ocean.

**HELP WANTED:** Still looking for a beta reader—I need one, like, CRAZY MAD! Or is it "mad crazy"?

You know what I mean, right? Need a beta reader, ASAP.

**An Added Author's Note:** Uh, that was fast. I think it's the fastest I've done so far… who knows anymore.

**Warning(s):** More strong language and suggestive themes. Maybe it'll be worse than the first chapter. Hints of shounen-ai here and there, the usual. Also, religion is only talked about briefly for those who might get offended—this was not intentional. It just made the plot flow more smoothly.

**Thanks:** To those who read, and whoever finally takes the position of Beni-Chuu's beta reader. Much love to reviewers as well.

**End.**

-

**The Take Over, the Breaks Over**

-

"_Don't get too close to that kid, Riku."_

"_Huh, why?"_

"_Oh, yeah, you just moved here from wherever you came from—the islands, right?"_

"_Yeah, but why can't I get too close to that kid? I mean, he only spilled milk over my favorite pair of jeans and that was just a month ago."_

"_He's fucking crazy. He tried to kill himself by trying to jump off the roof of his house. Scary, that's what that kid is. And trouble."_

_-_

At least that had been everyone's warning to Riku after he did his whole apologizing thing everyone else had been doing all day. He had only returned to the corner of the classroom where his friends were hanging around, nonchalantly paying attention to the teacher's lecturing. Though, they should be listening since this was AP Pre-Calc they had to worry about to graduate from high school, being juniors and all.

"Did he have any scars any where? Maybe you should have looked at his wrists. He's got the cast, so there must be some kind of bruise on that puny body of his." The girl sitting closest to Riku said, resting her chin by her palm.

"What?" Riku asked, raising an eyebrow. His friends rolled their eyes, as if Riku was the naïve one, even if he was the oldest out of them all.

"Didn't we already tell you before he came back"—Riku added to himself, _looking like a walking zombie, a cast around his leg, wobbling down the hallways cautiously, too afraid to even be existing_—? He tried to fucking kill himself. I repeat, he tried to fucking—like the _craziest_ way he could—kill himself. At least that's what my mom said, excluding the language. And she heard that from his mom, so it must be true." The boy Riku had first met on his first day the school said—what was his name again?

Not that it mattered to Riku, since he could care less about these—how to put it nicely—hypocritical motherfuckers who think they know everything. Yeah, that was the nicest he could put it.

Riku blinked. "And you're going to believe those adults?" he said with a frown, propping himself against a desktop. "Why don't you ask Sora himself?"

"Look, Riku. Coming from the islands, you must have never heard something like this, right?"

There it was. They held the same conceited, idiotic tone that the adults had used on the older teen back in the islands. Riku gritted his teeth, but kept his mouth clamped. He inclined his head a little, composed the most realistic smile he could manage without making it look like a grimace.

Riku stood up straight, arms folded against his chest. "Yeah, you're right. Never could have guessed I would hear anything like suicide in this quiet, boring town."

"Yep, that's what we all thought too…" Riku began to walk from his friends, but he still caught the last part of the girl's sentence. "Until that bizarre Jesus-freak-girl Naminé showed up."

-

"_You keep running away from your own problems, you know that, right?"_

"_Shut the hell up, Axel."_

"_Hmm, I guess I'm right. You're weak as hell."_

"…_I know."_

-

Riku had only met Naminé once. The encounter was brief and unintentional. She had only sat by the sidewalk in front of the school, looked as if she was waiting for someone.

Being the new kid for only a week so far, Riku didn't heed her, and she would do the same. That was what he was hoping for.

"Hey, you that Riku everyone's been talking about?"

Riku halted from his stride, and turned around. The sun that was high up in the sky reflected her shoulder-length gold hair that softly swayed in the light breeze of the early spring.

Riku shrugged, tugging at his book bag strap on his shoulder. "Yeah. I'm nothing special." Thinking it was right, he sat next to the blond girl against the pavement, leg outstretched while the other was bent so he could rest his arm against his knee.

"Oh," she said, giving him a soft smile. Riku—not meaning to—would have thought this girl was one of those punk-infatuated girls that imposed in their leather jackets, ripped clothes, and combat boots, plus the spiked and possibly could-be-used-as-weapons kind of jewelry, but she seemed too sweet for her harsh exterior look. "That's not what I heard."

One of his eyebrows rose in an inquiring way. "Oh, and what _did_ you hear?"

Her smile deepened, a dimple appeared. "That you were a gorgeous human being that had been sent from the heavens to save the believers and smite the sinners."

"Excuse me?" Riku gave her a befuddled stare.

"I'm kidding." She giggled, the soft sound piercing into the air. She peered at him. "Wow, you really do seem mysterious when you're from afar, but up close, it's like your face is an open-book. How cute."

Riku averted his eyes. "I feel offended, in a way or so, I can't really say."

She began to laugh again. When she could control her giggle-fit, she introduced herself. "I'm Naminé. Nice to meet you, fair angel with the open-book face."

Riku almost, _almost_, grinned, until the seemingly nice girl pulled out a cigarette from her pocket with a lighter.

She placed the cigarette into her mouth, lighting it, however, when she did, she had the lighter's fire so close to her fingers, they burned.

What had scared the shit out of Riku, though, was that her face never contorted, never winced in agony.

Naminé only smiled at the gaze Riku was giving her. His eyes stayed on her partially burnt fingers. After taking a long drag, she straightened up, her combat boots clomping against the cement.

"You can go ahead and judge the supposed-to-be good Jesus-freak, taunt her, slap a bible into her face if you feel like it, but I ain't gonna change for anyone." She began to saunter off. "Not you, not for my parents, not for my teachers, not even for my boyfriend."

Watching her strong back covered in a black leather jacket, Riku remained in spot, as if he too had been cemented to the sidewalk. He didn't know why, except he felt sad, and he couldn't comprehend why.

But he would soon understand later why he felt sad watching Naminé's back walk away from him.

In the same week, on a Wednesday, she had committed suicide inside her own bedroom.

-

_Hey, Naminé? If you believed that there was a God—since, you know, you were a Christian and all—did you really kill yourself so you could be in heaven to meet Him?_

_Or am I just stereotyping you, because there are those Christians that don't really believe in the God of their religion, and I want to believe that a sweet girl like you went to heaven and not into the fiery depths of hell?_

_Who knows? I just know that you killed yourself _and_ Sora._

-

He appeared to have been awake for all the hours of the days. His eyes red and puffy, as if he had been crying from the nightmares he couldn't quite escape. That wasn't how he wanted to picture himself, no one wants people to stare down at their weaknesses, but Riku saw right through that smile that hid every dirty secret he tried to keep to himself.

Sora walked the corridors of the school, no longer hindered by some crutches and a leg cast. Not one student had even signed their name on it, Riku noticed. Not even the so-called friends of Sora's like Roxas or Kairi. They were all afraid to approach him these days. Who wasn't?

_Me_, thought Riku. _Because I know how it feels to…_

What? And if Riku knew why, why didn't he just talk to the boy then?

That's what he had been pondering for days now, observing Sora from the corner of his eyes, behind a crowd of students bustling to get to class.

"Riku, you're staring off to space again."

"Hmm?" Riku glanced up from his the cafeteria lunch, blinking unconsciously. "You said something, Roxas?"

"I. Um." Roxas fidgeted in his seat, fiddling with a plastic fork at his mesh of food. "You might think I did something bad if you didn't hear this from me…"

"What?" Now Riku was interested. This certain boy had to be preoccupied to stay alive—boredom was just another excuse to get by through life. Excitement, though, that was a different story.

"I talked to Sora yesterday." Roxas adverted his eyes a little, noticed the peculiar look Riku was giving him. "Well, actually, I had _attempted_ to, but he avoided me. Again."

"That a problem?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, is it wrong for him to avoid the very people who were avoiding him in the first place?"

And this time, Riku was being more attentive that usual. Roxas's eyebrows rose at his words. Then they narrowed into anger. "Why you always trying to instigate people?"

"I ain't instigating worth shit. I'm just saying this—you're getting upset over something silly like Sora has always been ignoring you, but think about it. Don't you think Sora's only doing this to protect someone from the truth?"

Riku was now staring at Roxas, straight into the eyes. He knew what this charm did to people—he had perfected it a long time ago, back in the islands, when everyone was the enemy and he couldn't trust anyone.

His eyes—not only blue or green—could pierce through the heart and soul. It could see small details people tried to neglect for their own reasons.

"Maybe he's," Riku lowered his voice, so only Roxas could hear this, "maybe he's protecting you from knowing the reality that _you_ have been the one ignoring _your_ own best friend."

Someone screamed in the background, as a tray clattered to the floor, spilling its condiments.

Roxas—the one who could have never been known to be brash, the quiet kid who occasionally smiled and laughed when necessary—had scrambled on top of the table and held Riku by the collar of his Sex Pistols' shirt.

"Shut up! Damn you!"

There was only fury and hurt written on the blonde's face, and not even a flinch from Riku's face. And it was pissing the hell out of him, Riku knew.

"You think saying whatever the fuck is on your mind gonna solve all your damned problems? Well, it pisses off the rest of us!" Roxas screamed at the top of his lungs. His clenched hands trembled in his resentment. "Don't act as if you know Sora than I do! I've been there for him more than you could ever do in a lifetime, you asshole!"

The blond pulled a fist and connected it to Riku's face. He breathed heavily, watching as Riku's head turned to the side from the blow.

Roxas's eyes widened, and he stopped another fist in mid-air.

Behind the midst of white bangs, Riku's bloodied mouth erected into a smirk.

"You think I give a shit if I piss off every goddamn person at this school?" A low chuckled rose at his chest, crescendo-ing into a laughter that echoed the entire tumultuous room. It went quiet. "Because I don't."

Abruptly, Riku clamped his hand unto Roxas's fist, and flung the kid to the other side of the table and onto the dirty floor. Hushed whispers erupted, people scrambling into a circle to have a better look, some even chanting the mantra of "fight, fight".

Roxas raised himself a bit from the food spills, when a hand came straight across his upperclassman's face.

Kairi's hand shook as Riku stood still from the hit. The impact of her hand started to make the wound on his lip worsen enough to start swelling.

"How dare you…?" Kairi stumbled on her own words. She bent down to help Roxas to his feet. The stunned boy stared at her. "You're making a fool out of all of Sora's friends. You think we don't care?"

Riku only shrugged, placing his hands into his jean pockets. "Yeah, I think you guys don't care, because," Riku turned at the sound of the bell ending lunch sounded, glanced over his shoulder, "Sora wouldn't have jumped off his roof."

And with that was that, at least, that was what Riku was hoping for.

Upon passing by the double doors, Sora stood out in the mingling crowd of school cliques, not quite belonging in any of them. Riku spotted him, and smirked, despite the pain that shot through his mouth from Roxas's dilapidation.

As he crossed Sora's path, before vanishing into the rest of the crowd, his hand reached out, with his middle finger going straight up.

-

"_Aren't you going to change? Because sooner or later, your problems are going to come back to haunt you, and you'll have to pay a heavy toll because of it."_

"_I'm too afraid, and you know it."_

"_Is that why you're taking it out on yourself by using all these drugs? You're so afraid that it sickens you, so you're easing the guilt by taking crank by the nose."_

"_Do you think I'm horrible for doing this?"_

"_Yeah, I think you're the dumbest, most horrible person I've met so far in my fucking life."_

-

"What happened to your mouth?"

Riku blinked at his sister's outburst. He plugged a finger into his ear. "Can you at least be civilized enough to not shout for no reason?"

Larxene huffed impatiently, returning back to her homework. "College is murder, even if it's just a community college." She twirled a finger around a lock of her long gold hair, tapping a mechanical pencil against the desk.

Riku shrugged, not really caring. He removed his shoes at the front door, flung his books onto the couch inside the living room. He plopped himself against a cushion. "I'm hungry, Larxene."

Larxene twirled in her rotating incliner. "What? Didn't I give you lunch money?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't eat my paid lunch. It's the same reason why I have this huge blood clot on my lip." Riku complained, propping his knees to his chest.

She moved closer, with the chair and all, and examined her brother's lip wound. "It looks like it's getting infected."

After retrieving the antibiotics and tending to Riku's mouth, he munched on some instant pizza Larxene had just made. She had put her schoolwork away to the side, saying it was a waste of time to relearn all the things she suffered during high school.

While Riku was chewing absentmindedly, he noticed that Larxene was staring him down with her icy blue eyes—inherited by their mother. He didn't say anything for a while, until it got extremely irritating. "What?"

"Oh, just waiting for you to explain why I had to patch you up?" Larxene said with a devious smile. "I'm just dying to know."

"Fuck you."

"WHAT!" She began to pull his white hair playfully, punching at the sides of his head. "Who told you to use that foul mouth of yours on your sweetest sister? Haven't you heard of respecting your elders?-!"

"Okay!" Riku held his hands out in mock surrender. "I get it. Sorry."

Larxene composed of herself. She got up, taking the dishes up since he was done with lunch/dinner. "Good. Because I might just have to re-patch your wounds again, and give you some more bandages, if you weren't."

Riku narrowed his eyes. "Sweetest sister, my ass…" he mumbled.

"Said something, dearest brother?" Larxene called from the kitchen.

"Oh, nothing!" And he laughed, joining in on Larxene to wash the dishes.

They spent the rest of the night reminiscing on their days back in the islands, the home that wasn't inhabited by smog-filled clouds and cluttered building. The beaches had once been the haven that all the kids who were too stressed with life's obstacles hung out, playing in the ocean, digging their toes into the warm sand.

Just enjoying the scenario at the brink of the sunset was enough to ease a troubled, ailing soul.

"But…Riku… Isn't that when all the trouble started?"

Riku froze for a moment, until the doorknob shook and the clang of keys could be heard. Larxene sprung to her feet, a hesitate smile marking her features. "Mom! You're…home."

The beautiful woman with the long, luscious hair that was neither blond nor white—maybe it was a mixture of both—in an elegant Chanel suit stared inside the contents of her living room. A look of disgust manifested her pale façade, her red lipstick-ed lips twitched.

"What the hell is this mess?"

She flung Riku's books onto the floor, stomping them with her heels. She snatched the glass cup still on the table—Riku's soda as still in it—and spilt the drink on Larxene. Her hand flew to Larxene's golden hair, ripping at the scalp. "You stupid bitch! Who told you to _not_ clean up when you make messes?"

Larxene screamed, and Riku stayed quiet, still sitting on the couch. His fists, however, were trembling.

"How dare you? Are you making a fool out of me?-!" She tugged harder. Her daughter writhed under her mother's figure.

Riku's eyes remained glassy, but his mouth convulsed.

"I pray to God every night that He would take you away, so I would never have to bear the misfortunes of taking care of you!" Her hand soared in a flurry, hitting Larxene's face with so much anger, so much ferocity it killed the very happiness that had once resided in the air.

Riku's fist connected to the side of his mother's mouth.

A hand, the one with the diamond ring, then came down to impact his mouth. It jerked the bandage off and reopened wound.

"_Did you know that diamond is the hardest mineral in the world? Man, I even heard they used it to clean your teeth whenever you go to the dentist. Cool, huh? I'm going to become a dentist now, 'cause then I'd have a reason to go blingin'."_

He could taste the metallic of blood as his mother's foot came in contact with his side.

He stumbled forward, gasping.

"How dare you raise your hand against your own mother?-!" His mother straightened herself, her grasp around Larxene's hair released. She tossed her disarray hair out of her face and wiped the trickle of blood off the side of her mouth. "I hope you and your sister burn in hell for your sins, you pathetic drug addict!"

With another kick to his shin, their mother walked off to her room. Riku peered from the ground, struggling to rise up from the floor. For a moment…just for a flitting second, he wanted to catch that back, go back to happier times.

But the door slammed, along with his futile wishing.

-

"_Ha, I can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult. I'm so fucking high I can't tell anymore."_

"_Just like you can't tell the that you live by hurting before you could be hurt, or by betraying before you get betrayed? That's how you're protecting yourself…taking all these substances…"_

"…_I'm in pain. Help me, Axel…"_

"_I can't help you—_you_ can only do that for yourself. Fight for what you believe. If believe that fighting is impossible, you should already dump the whole bottle into your mouth and die. Thinking like that will never get you anywhere, so fight. If you don't fight now, when will you ever?"_

"_Axel, do you believe there's a God?"_

-

Surprisingly, his lip healed in less than a week. It was easy, avoiding everyone's concerned, yet nosy, questions.

"What happened?"

"I heard Roxas got you bad, is that what he did to you?"

"Riku, as the teacher, I need you to realize those books are in a need of repair. You'll have to pay for the damage at the end of the year. What did you do to them?"

"Ah, at least it didn't leave a scar on your beautiful face."

"Why didn't you punch that kid to a bloody pulp?"

Riku answered all, except the teacher because he was in some deep shit already—detention for a month wasn't even a sufficient punishment but that's what he got—of them with a "Mind your own _fucking_ business."

However, it was harder for his older sister. Larxene's face was marred with red welts and scars from the multiple rings their mother wore on her right hand. She had to call in sick for at least two days at college, asking the professors for schoolwork via email.

That wasn't the end of it. Suddenly, and even more surprisingly, Kairi, that one redhead that Sora had used to hang around with before his transformation, appeared to Riku to talk to him.

-

"_God? Why? Should it matter? Does it matter there's a god, demons, a heaven, a hell? Something so vague shouldn't determine if you live or not. If you want to live, then just fight."_

"_But, what if fighting is sinful?"_

"_Then you might as well be a forever sinner, because killing yourself is just a sin in itself."_

_-_

Kairi had pushed him away from his crowd of friends at the stairwell, tugging at his wrist.

Riku gave a bewildered look, but understood her eyes. He called to his friends over his shoulders that they could go to class before him. They stayed put for a moment, murmuring amongst each other, but, though reluctantly, left the two alone.

Riku sighed. This was going to be the newest gossip around school now. He could hear it now. "Did you hear? Riku's shagging Kairi—is that insane or _what_?"

"What'd you want?" Riku hadn't meant it to sound harsh, but indeed Kairi's face held some sort of hurt when she opened her mouth in a silent gasp.

"I…" She could be fidgety as Roxas was that day he taught the kid a lesson. However, she built up her words faster than the blond could. "I didn't appreciate how you handled my cousin at lunch the other day. Though, I think you deserved the punch to the mouth. Too bad it's already healed."

"You and your cousin can deep-throat your own misery—" A pause. "_Your cousin_?" Riku pointed out, leaned against the stairwell railing. "You've got to be kidding. That puny blond of a kid is your _cousin_?"

Kairi narrowed her eyes into angry little slits. "He's only a cousin by marriage, but that's beside the point. The point is…" She peered around where they were standing. "The point is, you can't tell anyone what I'm going to tell you, okay?"

Riku's eyebrows rose in curiosity. This, he thought, _was getting intriguing._

"Promise me you won't tell, Riku. Promise." Her eyes were, for the first time around him, plfeading, actually hoping that he would keep his promise.

There was a long pause on Riku's part, but finally he folded. "Fine. I'll keep it a secret," he said, propping himself straight. "Although, I can't say the people at school aren't going to find out, you know, with gossip flying around like festering mosquitoes. So…what was it you wanted to talk about?"

Kairi then looked uneasy, and as she told Riku her secret, she shook with so much uneasiness that she collapsed to the floor, and cried.

_-_

"_Will God condemn me if I'm a sinner then, like everyone at church says so—even my _mom_? I'm going to hell, aren't I? Tell me, Axel!"_

"_Yeah, maybe. Maybe they're right—you might be condemned."_

"_How can you say that, Axel? Are you going to judge me too?"_

_-_

"Did you hear?"

Riku slammed his locker door closed, eyeing his friend warily. "What?" He didn't sleep much the night before, what with his back burning from his mother's latest treatments. He sighed, visioning again how he first watched Larxene be beaten with the used frying pan, before his mother pounced on him.

His arm was still bruised, and he had no time to ask Larxene to do the laundry, so he tugged at his spare shirt on the sleeve to cover the yellow, black, and purple bruises.

Riku's friend—who he dubbed Cameron, just because—rolled his eyes. "You haven't heard then? He did it again!"

Riku stared at his friend, tugged at his sleeve again. "Who did what again?"

Just then, when Cameron was opening his mouth again to spout out what he heard from the great grapevine, someone yanked Riku's right arm, hard.

Riku winced at the contact, but hid it fast before anyone could establish anything about it. He wouldn't people know about the humiliation he endured at home.

"What the hell… Kairi?"

The redhead's eyes were not holding the usual cheerful, but a temper that was fuming and growing by the second. "You told!"

"What?" The junior was not in the mood for being confused again. Was everyone suspecting that he knew everything around this school? You would think he wouldn't have given much of a rat's ass about it, but still. He had gained popularity in the past year, and it pissed the hell out the teen. Yet, he couldn't do anything about it, could he?

"Uh…" Cameron stammered. "I'll leave you two guys alone." With one last glance over his shoulder, Cameron left the two, as he said he would.

But who knew he wouldn't talk shit about Riku and Kairi being an official couple?

Kairi shook his arm as she dug her pedicures into flesh. "Everyone knows now! Everyone's talking about Sora!"

"You think that's my fault?" He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but it was only out of instinct. Her nails against his arm felt too much like how his mother's were when she had her ring-encased hand around him. "I fucking told you everybody would find out, didn't I?"

Her eyes softened a little, but her pink lips were still tight for relief. "You said something, because that girl who hangs around with you—you know, the girl with the long brown hair? She smirked at me, and said that Sora was the dumbass who should've popped the pills somewhere else other than in his own bathroom!" Her fingertips began to tremble as tears rolled down her cheeks. "It makes me sick… It was as if her—no—the whole school was hoping he had died by overdosing!" She shook her head, her red hair moving along with the movement. "It's like last time…"

_With Naminé_, Riku added mentally.

"Kairi…" He pried her fingers off his arm. "I can't do anything for you…"

At that, Kairi's head shot up. She shrieked in the older boy's face. Being the six-one teenager he was, the five-five girl had to stand at her tiptoes to reach his face.

"You don't care?-!" A feminine fist hit against Riku's chest. "You don't care if Sora dies, do you!-?"

Memories, harsh as they were, for they pierced like a jagged knife, rushed into Riku's mind, and his adrenalin rose. Anger formed in the pit of his stomach, like a virus ready to spread throughout his person.

"_I hope you and your sister burn in hell for your sins, you pathetic drug addict!"_

A hand shot from his side, and before any of them could stop it, Kairi had her entire body do a 180 and was slammed against the nearest door by the lockers. A deafening cry escaped her throat. Books that had once been encased by a strong arm plunged to the floor.

"Shut the hell up!" Bile boiled in his mouth, spit flying. "Shut up! You don't know me, so didn't even dare judge me! I ain't some kid you can just walk all over and think that's the end of it! I hate you!"

He cocked back a fist, took dead aim, and Kairi's eyes shut tight as she waited for the blow. But it never came.

A crashing sound broke in the hallway. The rest of the hallway occupants who had wandered since the bell rang muttered as they watch what had happened.

Cautiously and hesitantly, Kairi lifted one eyelid, and was horrified at the sight.

Riku's right fist had gone right through the door window, glass sticking out from flesh and blood splattered on them.

Despite the gore, that was not the most horrifying aspect Kairi could comprehend.

The junior's face was void of any emotion, his eyes still and calm, his mouth not even twisted into a grimace of agony.

Kairi remained paralyzed, eyes widened into saucers.

"Fuck you," Riku growled, removing his fist form the fractured glass-cage. Throwing himself off of Kairi, he casually sauntered, picked up the books that had fallen out of his arm before their—his—bloody escapade. And left.

_I'm not running from my problems._ Riku commenced to chant this mantra as the school day unfolded. _I'm not running away._

The end of the day arrived with the sound of the bell. He, with his poorly bandaged hand, walked out gracefully from the school, though half stumbling on the last step of the entrance.

_Oh, yes the fuck I am._

He broke into a run, the wind blowing through his white hair that was reflected by the faint rays of the sun.

_-_

"…_No, because I never—nor any of those fools who go against you—have ever been in your shoes. All they ever do is sit there, judge you, spouting out the same cooler-art-thou morality shit to whomever questions their faith._

"_But you've always tried to cope with life, struggled with every step you've taken to just stay alive. And they can't help but wonder how you do it, can't help but admire you. So they can't swallow their own damned pride and only shun you, forsaking you, condemning you. Who cares what they think?"_

_Was there something missing in my life…?_

_-_

A call was all it took to piss the hell out of his mom. Apparently, Cameron had actually stuck around—hiding in the corner—saw the whole scene between him and Kairi.

Cameron had spilled the beans to one of their friends, who told the whole, yet exaggerated, story during her Literature's seminar, so the teacher found out and confessed to the principal, and the principal had just told his mom the details.

The broken window's price was, at max, 400. In cash or check, no credit card would be acceptable.

How the hell a window would cost so much, Riku pondered, but his contemplation was stopped by the many slaps to the face he retrieved from his mother.

Defiance rose in his mouth like vomit. His hand prohibited the next slap, and he squeezed her wrist. "Hit me again," he screamed at the top of his lungs. "And I guaran-fucking-tee I will kill you!"

This remark received three blows from his mother's Coach shoes, eleven welts from a belt, another slap to the face, and a random object thrown to his temple.

He shook under his covers, avoiding Larxene when she arrived home from night-class that she attended to make up the days of absences. The tears came freely this time, and wished so damn hard for the good stuff, the hard-core shit that could leave you buzzed for hours.

He's been clean for almost a year now.

_-_

"_You live the way you want to live. That's the only thing you should care about these days. Just live the way you want life to be for _you_. Yeah, it may be selfish, and you might get hurt along the way, but that's how you overcome your mistakes. After falling from tumbling, there's only one thing to do. Get up. And then, once you look back at it, you'll laugh, laugh the hardest you've ever had."_

_Those words…though they cut clean like a knife, they didn't leave a horrible, heart-wrenching wound, but a way to the light, the light I've been searching. _

-

"_Headlights crawl by a blur of white power lines form proof of life immersed in sleep the city sits below"_

His mother called in sick for him.

"You had better not leave this house."

Translation: _These family secrets are to stay behind these closed doors._

"_Its lights blinking in and out of the still trees rain pours upon"_

"Don't do anything stupid."

Translation: _Don't you even dare call the cops on me, or else._

"_These empty streets slowly hitting the ground"_

"Keep your mouth shut about this from your sister.

Translation: _If you do, she's going to get a seven-fold. I swear to it._

"_It falls without a sound"_

As if Riku didn't know any better than defy his mother, but he attempted to at least to contact at least some people from school, to evade the loneliness. He even considered calling Roxas, of all people.

"_I can't help this feeling; I need it, this love inside.  
You know that I see it; you feel it, this apathy inside."_

Kairi was also out of the question.

So who was on the list?

Cameron was definitely not an option—with his tattling ass, he'd probably make matters worse.

"_A constant upon the ocean floor as footsteps appear they never disappear because of you"_

Riku stared at the phone sadly, and placed it back in its cradle. He heaved a large sigh, and a pain in his ribs stabbed through his entire system.

He flopped back on his bed, ready to cocoon himself back into his sheets, when the corner of his eye caught something.

Hanging by his bed in a metal hanger, he noticed the jeans he wore about several months ago.

"_I can't help this feeling; I need it, this love inside.  
You know that I see it; you feel it, this love inside."_

Even with all the crap revolving in his life, despite the hopes of ever getting out of it, no matter how much wishing and tears of blood he would have to endure until hope finally would be the only answer, he managed a smile. It wasn't even half-hearted like the other ones he had to give to various people to conceal the ugliness that was indelible.

Small, but it was a smile nonetheless.

On the jeans there still remained a milk stain.

-

_To be continued…_

_-_

**Beni-Chuu's Farewell(s):**

Well. I can't say much about this chapter, except Riku isn't who everyone expects him to be. He uses the word "fuck" a load of times, too. –smile-

If you didn't get the last part of this chapter, the jeans that were mentioned were the ones Sora had spilled milk on when he and Riku first met. Duh.

Still not done with this project, though, if anyone's noticed. Who knows how short or how long this is going to be, but I can "guaran-fucking-tee" that updates will surely come in a matter of time.

Ah, reviews would be so nice, too.

**End.**


	3. All At Once

**Beni-Chuu's Note(s): **

**Disclaimer:** No owning, no suing, I hope that could be understandable. That's as simple as I could put it.

**An Added Author's Note:** I'm sorry for the slow update. Though it was only a few reviews, I was still happy with the results. I was only stuck on writer's block, because with each draft of this chapter, I wasn't _satisfied_. Damn.

And the rating went up a notch, as suggested from a reviewer, because, once you look at it, this does have some rather strong situations that aren't quite suitable for the weak.

**Warning(s):** Hmm. The usual language issue, along with the suggestive themes, shounen-ai smut; if that's not your thing you can simply leave this story alone, really. Flamers are acceptable, too; don't be hesitate. I love any kind of feedback. –smiles-

**Thanks:** To whoever reviewed, who took the position(s) of my beta readers, and whoever stumbled upon this angst driven story to read it.

Oh, and a huge thanks to the band The Fray for inspiring this chapter. If a fan notices, I used the lyrics of "Fall Away" in this chapter.

**End.**

-

**All At Once**

-

"_Sora, here's your meal. Eat up."_

"…"

"_Oh, do you need to be fed?"_

"…_Are you out of your fucking mind?"_

-

"Doctor, the patient hasn't been cooperative in any way."

Sora dejectedly stared at the IV protruding from his forearm. He clasped a sweaty hand on the device, looked at the machine by him. A sickening feeling rumbled in his stomach.

"Meaning…?"

He could recall the multiple tubes that had once resided in the other room, could remember the bright fluorescent lights that hovered over him like an ominous halo. He faintly heard the voices that had been coming from outside his mind, blurrily saw the tear-streaked face of his mother rushing by his side after they pumped his stomach.

"He doesn't eat or take the required medicine, and tends to snap at the nurses whenever he feels sufficient to do so."

He still felt sore from it. He tentatively propped his elbows to rest the weight of his body on the limbs and raised his head to look out the partly opened door. His doctor, Dr. Strife with the unruly golden hair that could compete with Sora's own crazy mess of a mane, was engaged in a conversation with one of the nurses attending to the brunette.

"Is that so?"

Dr. Strife's face, Sora thought it was a soft, beautiful face that could at times meld into a harsh outlook. His face was lined with concern, along with his eyes, a sort of disappointment Sora had never seen upon one's face. Except for one person he could think of, the brunette had never experienced a small pang of guilt in the bottom of his stomach when he caught sight of that look.

"I don't know, Doctor, but some of the other patients get quite annoyed at his antics."

Sora mentally scoffed. It wasn't quite his fault that some of the older patients tend to come up to his room, look inside to have a glance at the newcomer. Who is a young boy, who had only arrived from intensive care, sulking his brains out. It wasn't like he intentionally made a small woman burst into tears when he told her to mind her own damned business. They were the senile folks, not him.

"Hmm…"

Sora took his attention back to the conversation. He felt his elbows cramping from the long session of weighing them down but curiosity was biting him, and extremely hard at that.

"Doctor?"

Sora turned to Dr. Strife's face. Sometimes, Sora felt as though the older blond had some hidden sadness he rarely let show, which the boy could see right through, being practically in the same hide-that-frown predicament not too long ago.

"I'll go talk to him."

Before he popped those pills.

When he heard the footsteps coming towards the direction of his room, he quickly lowered himself back into the compressed mattress, wincing at the sudden movement. The door swung open, his doctor promptly entering. He gave the smaller boy a small smile.

Sora knew it was a forced one right off the bat.

"How are you doing, Mr. Aoi?"

Sora turned his head solemnly, didn't return the smile. "Terrible," he replied, not really speaking to Strife, but more to himself. He glanced at the machine by the bed. "When am I getting out of here, out of this _thing_?"

The doctor shrugged, dragged a rolling chair from a corner of the room and took a seat, crossing his legs. He leaned forward. "If you want to leave, you have to make progress."

Sora didn't blink and stared up the ceiling. He mentally traced the many cracks that adorned the whiteness. A dull laugh was emitted from him. "Progress?" He bleakly echoed. "What kind of progress are we talking about, doc?"

"One that could be your ticket out of here." The blond male smoothed his face out with a hand, heaving a tired sigh. "Mr. Aoi—"

"Sora."

"…_Sora_. You really need to stop doing this to yourself…"

Sora blinked innocently at his doctor's direction. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dr. Strife suppressed an impatient grimace. "Look, my patience is hanging from a thin, a _very_ thin line and if you don't cooperate, you're not going to ever get better."

A pregnant silence, a tension hovered over the two. Sora blankly stared at Strife. Then waved a hand dismissively, as if to swat away the awkwardness.

"Look here, doc, I ain't here to entertain you and you aren't here to entertain me. Hell, you're getting paid to watch some crazy kid's health, that's cool. But," Sora stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing into dangerous cerulean slits and turned to face the older man. "Don't act like you can solve me like another medical case, ca-peesh?" He averted his gaze back to the ceiling, smiling half-heartedly. "And, oh, if you're expecting me to take those damn medications those nurses want to literally shove in my mouth, it ain't happening."

End of conversation.

Sora didn't watch the doctor sigh again. He heard the scraping of the chair rollers as the blond stood up. The brunette was expecting the click of the door as well, but not the soft, timid hand that rested on his shoulders. Nor did he anticipate for the reassuring pressure.

"Don't keep hurting yourself."

The statement was swift, as well as the touch and they both immediately vanished. Dr. Strife stepped out of the room, shutting the door with a click. Cerulean eyes continued to stare at the door even after the one person he thought he could trust in this asylum-disguised hospital left.

He had the sudden urge to break something, rip out his IV, something drastic, some thing that could ease his pain for at least an instant. Angry eyes narrowed into teary slits swiftly glowered at the machine, annoyed at the incessant beeps. Mouth was dry, needed something to roll around for the tongue, a pill, hell, even one of the medicines the nurses provided.

All was lost. It really was. And there was nothing that could be done to help it.

Sora crumbled, knees hunched by his chest, as he silently cried.

-

"_E-excuse me?"_

"_I said, are you out of your—never mind. Just leave."_

"_No. You have to eat first."_

"_I don't want your friggin slop you call hospital food."_

-

The release day occurred about a week later, after he made at least an effort towards the path of improvement. Dr. Strife let out a sigh of relief when Sora finally had the strength to walk around his room, tapping his pen against his clipboard in moderate elation.

The brunette slowly regained his appetite, thus starting to eat more and his body lightening up in a healthy glow. One of the nurses, the one who had scolded to his doctor, the pretty lady with plastic as face, clapped as he took a spoonful of some more pudding.

Had they known the truth, though, they would have noticed the trash can placed by his bed with every meal he threw up with a napkin covering each regurgitation, squished to the bottom to conceal its very condiments.

After some more tests for reassurance, Sora was able to sign out of the hospital, surrounded by his mother's tears of joy and the patting of the back from his father. He returned the kind gestures with a smile, allowing them to continue to spoil him with their excitement, still a little woozy because of that's what hospitals did to him: make him unwillingly woozy.

It was a ritual to stare out the car window. Such rituals avoided needless conversations with relatively paranoid parents who looked like that'd snap if an abrupt conversation took place, one that was started by their own aloof son. So it was a better choice and he liked the shapes of the clouds, thank you very much.

The hospital room window had a terrible view, anyway.

When they arrived home from the short drive in the Mercedes, Sora noticed the sudden change in the atmosphere. It was an unsettling feeling, and only he recognized it; his parents were forever and again oblivious.

The teenager silently crept to his room, finding it to have been cleaned of the mess that was of his doing from two weeks ago. He traced every bedroom-furniture's top, feeling the coolness of the smooth surfaces. His fingers found the stereo on top of the dresser, and he pushed the play button.

The soft music from the speakers left Sora frozen in petrifaction. The rather jazz motion of the piano sounds and the quiet male voice traced each word of the song in a slight hesitation.

"…_made up your mind to leave it all behind  
Now you're forced to fight it out"_

What the…? His mind starting reeling, and the heart hammered in triple speed and almost seemed to beat out of his chest.

_"You fall away from your past  
But it's following you now_

"_You fall away from your past  
But it's following you…"_

Breathing that was once calm and steady beckoned his lungs to quicken, to hitch in precision.

"_You left something undone, it's now your rerun  
It's the one you can't erase  
You should have made it right, so you wouldn't have to fight  
To put a smile back on your face"_

The teenager's muscles started to trembling, convulsed, as his fingers clenched and unclenched into fists, the nail digging into sweaty flesh. Eyes began to water, so the vision becoming blurry, whirling into colorful swirls.

"… _away from your past  
But it's following you  
You fall away"_

A hand flew up to stop the noise, to stop this song, to stop the memories that were stumbling with each enunciation of each word part of the song. They toppled over and stepped on the wound gashing from all over Sora's consciousness, rubbing roughly against it to worsen it.

"_Something I've done that I can't outrun  
Maybe you should wait maybe you should run  
But there's something you've said that can't be undone"_

This was the song, he thought to himself, heaving and gasping as the bedroom did a 180 and his vision was upside down. His eyes rolled over to stare at the ceiling, now realizing that it had almost the same kind of cracks the hospital room possessed. The memory slapped him, and he corroded over, hugging his stomach and clenching at his shirt. Sweat matted his bangs against his hot forehead.

"_And you fall away from your past  
But It's following you…"_

"Naminé…" he said coarsely, turning his entire body to press it against the coldness of the floor. The floor was shiny, being wood, and reflected Sora's chaotic appearance. He blinked, and in an instant, he could have sworn his reflection morphed, taking shape a heart-shaped face with light blues eyes sparkling with a bittersweet happiness. Faint gold hair cascaded and surrounded the round face.

"_You fall away  
It's following you…"_

Eyes shooting wide open, Sora slammed a fist on the reflection, as if abusing his floor would make that haunting face disappear. But it didn't. The face continued to sadly smile at him, a wave of guilt washing through his nervous system clean and dry. He balled up his hands into a fist and continued the assault, gritting his teeth.

"_You swear you recall nothing at all  
That could make you come back down  
You made up your mind to leave it all behind  
Now you're forced to fight it out"_

The song was on repeat apparently, repeating the crescendo-ing of the upcoming chorus. He ignored it, tears spilling from his eyes. Once he had decided to bite his tongue to keep the harsh crying deep in his throat, but with one particular strike to the floor that shot a jolt of pain right up his arm allowed the screaming to escape.

"…_from your past  
But it's following you"_

He moved both his injured and uninjured hand to block his ears, eyes shut tight. He continued to scream until his throat became raw and his voice scratchy. The door bolted open, his parents rushing in, mother screaming at the top of her lungs with renewed tears around her face. His father began shouting something the brunette couldn't comprehend, he thought he heard the name "Squall Leonhart", but a sudden and scary darkness swept over him like a sheet. It engulfed him like a beast.

"_And you fall away from your past  
But It's following you"_

This was Naminé's song.

"_You fall away  
It's following you…"_

-

"_I suppose another session is needed. I informed Strife of his condition, if that is all right."_

"_Oh, that's fine, fine indeed. Strife was the one that recommended you, after all. I just…"_

"_I know this is hard for you, for the both of you, but I need you to stay calm, but not ignorant."_

-

The old saying that "ignorance is bliss," whoever thought to even utter those words should be shot in the head with a damn bazooka.

It was first suggested that Sora's mom and dad to act as if nothing was wrong with their son, that it was only a phase that he would soon outgrow of. How dead wrong were they.

The brunette tapped his feet against the cushion of the "hot seat", what he fondly nicknamed the seat he usually occupied whenever he had sessions with his uptight therapist.

Squall Leonhart, who preferred to be called "Leon" for the sake of familiarity with his clients, frowned behind the desk. The man was around twenty-something, with a doctrine for psychology encrusted in gold on one side of the wall, was a sight to behold. He had stern gray eyes, prominently high cheekbones, combed brown locks that framed his face, and a soft scar that marred the skin above the bridge of his nose. His appearance often left an intimidating first impression, but he spoke softly, a highly regarded contrast to his outer guise. But his façade was always unmoving, steeling, only immobile when he blinked slowly, and even then one could say his face never looked to be fazed by anything.

Hell, if a damn UFO suddenly crash-landed through the roof of the spacious office he wouldn't flitch when crumbling rocks from the impact rained down. Sora quietly laughed at such a prospect but one look from his therapist shut him up.

The younger brunette, the patient, waved his hand dismissively. "What's on today's agenda, Squall"—another glare towards his direction—"I mean, _Leon_?"

Leon folded his hands together and rested his chin against the back of them. The snips of the conversation with the frantic and rather hopeless Aoi parents riveted in his spiraling, working mind, his eyes closing slowly.

-

"_Pardon?"_

"_Sora's condition is a mental and emotional process. Because of this, physical problems may also show up. You have to do everything in your power to let your son know that you know he is being troubled and not pretend to be all right with it."_

"_But…whatever for?"_

"_Influences, actions, practically anything can affect a patient's progress. Sora's delay in progress might be due to what goes at home, school, anywhere he interacts with people that might influence his condition in any way. Make sure to ask him questions—maybe something happened at school or questions about what happened during his day but don't be persistent and nag if he refuses to answer. It seems he can smell things like that right off the bat."_

-

The older of the two brunettes squeezed the flesh of the bridge of his nose, not flinching when he touched his scar. Which Sora thought was incredibly amazing, because the "nose-scar" looked like it hurt like hell when the male first acquired it. Then again, he thought the actual thing looked ridiculous on his flawless skin. How did he get it? The question kept creeping up to escape his lips but each time he avoided the temptation by biting down his tongue. Hard.

-

"_Um. Of course."_

"_I know it will be frustrating to watch your son in this state but if you help him in any possible way, it'll help in the long run. Do you think you'll need any guidance for this?"_

"_No, that'll be all right. Just…please make sure our son gets better."_

"…_I can't reassure you that. That's all up to your son."_

-

Leon's steely gray eyes met with indifferent blue ones, causing him to sigh again. This was not what he thought he was putting himself into when he agreed to actually take up the spiky-haired brunette as a client. Previous psychiatrists warned him about Sora Aoi, suicidal patient he was on a brink of a mental breakdown. He nodded the casual comments, ignored some rather ridiculous accusations from others but all in all he did accept.

And Leon never backed down from a challenge.

"So," Leon droned. The top of his favorite pen tapped against the first page of the hefty amount of paperwork pilling up on his desk in dangerous measures. "Says here you went ballistic after you came home from a hospital stay."

His only response from the client lying on his back was an apathetic shrug, as if he was indicating that he frankly didn't give a rat's ass whatever the therapist had heard. Leon ignored it, though slightly ready to seethe and throw the pen in his clenched hand at the boy's big head. But that wouldn't look good on the record. Moving on.

"Let's hear some things you want to say," Leon prompted monotonously, twirling the pen through the spaces between his fingers. Again, another shrug for an answer, a blood vessel almost popped. Leon tried again. "Care to have some more of a reaction other than a simple shrug, Aoi?"

Sora scrunched his nose in contemplation. He almost had the urge to shrug at the therapist's sudden interest on the way he gave out responses, but thought otherwise. Believing that said therapist could just be a psycho with a license to hear people vent. Instead, he decided to move toward a more devious approach, and flicked off the therapist.

However, he wasn't expecting, nor did he see, a relatively amused Leon smirking, the man jotting down something on his notepad.

_Patient showing some sign of improvement. _

Anticipation is such a bitch.

_-_

"_Sora, please wake up. School is going to start soon, and you've already had a list of multiple absences. The school already called. Sora…"_

"_I hate school and it's not like they actually need me to be there to continue with their useless lectures and hypocritical students. Tell them when they call next time to fuck off."_

"_I won't allow that kind of language used towards your own mother, young man."_

"_Better yet, Mom, tell Dearest Dad to fuck off."_

_-_

Today, during one of Sora's sessions with the crazy psycho with nose-scar, he cried.

It wasn't like the sort of dramatic, soap opera worthy bawling types of crying. A tear simply rolled down from his eyes and down his cheek, landing softly on his palm, which he retracted to wipe away at his eyes.

This was how it happened.

His back was facing Leon, since he didn't like staring at such an intimidating person who seemed to look like he was undressing him with his eyes, could see right through Sora's mask. The brunette had hugged his knees closer to his chest, curling his sock-clad toes around the cushion of his personal "hot seat". Rocking back and forth, he whistled a tune, making an attempt to ignore Leon. This had been happening ever since the first session after coming back from the hospital (just two days, mind you). Subsequently, apparently Leon didn't seem displeased by the lack of cooperation from his patient, and that prospect didn't even bother Sora one bit.

Except for this gnawing feeling in the deepest part of his gut, Sora was actually pretty damned scatterbrained, bobbing his head at a silent tune only his brain seemed to hear and pay attention to.

He heard the occasional scratching of Leon's pen on then pad, almost, _almost_ roughly having the impulse to glance over his shoulder and peek at what the older male was writing, yet, he had a pretty good feeling what he was taking notes on.

—_Lack of response and cooperation from patient._

—_No actual problems being solved because of apathetic behavior._

—_Patient not receiving adequate care. Need of a new therapist._

Contrary, Sora moderately beamed at the idea of another change of therapists. He was used to it—having been passed by already five therapists who failed miserably—and he actually felt triumphant every time. Though, he had to frequently ignore the familiar sinking feeling of disappointment that made its appearance whenever he was transferred to therapist after therapist. Nonetheless, Sora was practically fond with not having a nagging person asking meaningless, predictable questions that they either recorded by using technical methods or the old fashioned way of noting by pen.

Usually he rocked his legs back and forth. Hearing the therapist drone on and on, not really getting anywhere, as their words went through one of his ears and right out the other. It was a system, an unchangeable cycle that was immaculate, a perfect plan to hurry the process of getting the hell out of those stupefying, boring conferences.

However, that wasn't the case today.

A surprise change hovered over Leon as he stared at the stagnant boy's back. It wasn't like he preferred staring at it, but what else was he to do? The brunette teenager was stubborn as a cantankerous mule, and didn't seem to care about others' feelings or opinions about him or anything else. Which reminded Leon of a younger version of a certain person—the resemblance was quite uncanny—but that's beside the point.

"Now." Leon noticed Sora's ears perked at the sudden conversation starter. "I suppose I'm not going to get much out of you today like any other day, right?"

Silence followed after.

Leon's face perked up a bit, looked maybe a tad cheerier than before. One could say such an expression didn't belong, which it didn't, but the older male was plotting. Oh, was he plotting.

"That's why I'm giving you a proposition."

Consequently, Sora finally glimpsed over his shoulder, eyebrows shaped into raised arches. A scowl was twitching at his lip and he desperately, though he didn't know why, tried to suppress it. He turned his body fully around, sitting correctly on the incliner.

"Come again?" the brunette casually asked, not trying to sound at all interested with Leon's prospect.

Leon tucked his hands underneath his chin, appearing to come across looking professional. After awhile, he waved a hand dismissively in the air, as if to swat an unwanted fly. "Oh, never mind. I'm already certain that you won't be interested."

Sora blinked and squinted his eyes. "Eh?"

"Am I right?"

"And what if I say you're not?"

Leon's mouth tugged into a small smile. Then, all of a sudden, a book came hurling towards Sora, hitting the side of his head. The brunette winced, biting his tongue to oppress the howl that almost erupted through his throat, stared at the projectile that landed by his thigh. It was a simple spiral notebook. He opened it, its crisp new pages hadn't been contaminated by any marks. One of his eyebrows rose in puzzlement.

"What's this for?" he inquired, rubbing the stinging side of his head. Leon would rue the day he ever tried to pull that sort of stunt across the younger male again. He would swear to it in blood if he had to, which wasn't necessary, so he blocked that so called imagination from his mind. He flipped through the pages again, his nostrils filling up with that familiar smell of new products, that right out of the market scent that was on the pungent side. "A notebook?"

The smile on Leon's face didn't diminish; it seemed to have actually grown slightly in size. "Amazing. You're quite observant." Blue eyes narrowed at the hint—no, make that the immense amount—of sarcasm biting at the older male's words. "It is indeed a notebook. This is where I lay my proposition on the table."

Sora shifted in his seat, simultaneously, Leon leaned back against his recliner, slumping in way a therapist shouldn't, but what the hell. He was only human.

"Since it seems you don't have the balls"—Leon ignored the indignant glower that was suggesting to burning holes through his body—"enough to come out and tell me what's going on, and not giving me a moment to actually help you with your condition. I suggested maybe writing down your feelings, your thoughts, hell, you can write anything you damned well please, into that notebook there." A thin finger pointed to said book.

The younger brunette's small fingers curled around the notebook. Still quite befuddled with his therapist's sudden change of method, he didn't see any harm in actually accepting it. He could accept, then, if he felt like it, through it in the nearest garbage dump. There were plenty of those around his neighborhood.

However, what if he did have the nerve to write down something? Maybe to test it out, experience something that no other therapist he had had offered? Either way, there was no catch—

"Oh, don't forget, there's a hitch."

—that was really important, but be damned.

Sora grinned half-heartedly. "And what's that, Squall"—upcoming glare warning—"_Leon_?"

"Every time you have a new entry, you have to return the notebook to me."

Okay, that's some bullshit, thought the brunette, and he was seeking for a loophole already. "Wait. I thought this was going to be a personal notebook, not some act to exploit little poor me."

Leon blinked slowly, lifelessly. "I didn't say I was going to read it, squirt. I'm only going to analyze, you know, the length of your entries, take note that you're actually doing your part of the deal. Maybe give you some compliments on your English skills, no?"

"Not funny, Leon," Sora retorted. "And I'm not a squirt. You're not really authorized to verbally harass your patients."

"I ain't scared, kid. You can rat me out, squirt. I wouldn't give a damn. It'd be easier that way"—Leon paused, licked his lips, voice cold and insensible—"I could get out of this shit hole a lot faster if you did. I'm only here doing someone a favor, for someone I'm indebted to, a big favor. So don't think a feeble threat coming from a self-pitying teenager will stop me."

Sora involuntarily shuddered. For some odd reason, those words reminded him of something, or _someone_, he couldn't quite put his finger on. White hair, piercing eyes that weren't blue or green, full lips…nice bod…

Nope, couldn't think of the person on his life.

"So…" Sora's attention perked up at the sound of the voice. "Agreed?"

"Huh?"

Leon squinted his eyes in disbelief. Was this kid that dense? Wait, scratch that. Was this boy that… Leon couldn't think of any adjective to fill in the blank, so he gave up. He heaved an exhausted sigh. "Do we have a deal?"

"Oh!" Sora replied, slightly jumpy under the unrelenting stare of the older male before him. He loosely hugged the notebook to his chest. "You got yourself a deal."

Leon gave him a small smile. Sora blinked. Something was different about this smile, he thought. It didn't look like a mocking one that was belittling the teenager. Truth be told, it looked rather genuine. If it were on another person, it could have been pulled off as a tender smile.

Leon's not a tender person, mind you.

So Sora reluctantly returned it, knowing the action was forced, but hey, he got a free notebook. Who cared?

The therapist returned his concentration back to the documents that were in need of his signatures. Before that, the twenty-something year old scrawled down one brief note, engaging to the multiple sheets of paperwork.

And this is the part where the tear rolled out of his eye. Because Leon's attention was no longer on him, Sora silently kept it hush-hush about the sudden wetness around his eyes, and wiped it away before letting it to be discovered.

He had enough of a day of liberating his tight, cold mask, why did he need some more exposure?

Didn't think so.

On the way out of the door, he nodded a thank you towards the therapist, which he thought hadn't noticed, and didn't press about it. With a click of the door, he was gone.

Squall Leonhart, who preferred to be called "Leon" for the sake of familiarity with his clients, mentally smiled, ready to pick up his cell phone and dial one certain person's number.

Anticipation is one lucky bitch.

-

_I don't know what the hell I'm doing, actually writing in this damned thing, but I'm bored out of my mind. Mom and Dad are acting like assholes, always nagging about my neglect towards my education and blah, blah, blah. I stopped listening after I heard the word "school" for the, what, __**zillionth**__ time._

_Now, according to them, I'm grounded. No TV (whoa, whoop-dee-do, like I actually touch that stupid thing of a television. It's a fucking box with a screen, for Pete's sake), no computer (aw, my Internet porn gone to dust), no telephone (what the hell? Why would I want to touch it, anyway?), and no stereo player (heard of a thing called an MP3 player?). _

_I can see why some kids believe that their parents are the dumbest things on the planet._

_So… What do I do now, since I'm deprived of everything I don't actually use, but hey, at least my parents are now noticing me._

_I feel loved._

_Note the sarcasm, thank you very much._

_Anyways. This notebook ain't helping me one bit. What was Nose-Scar thinking when he handed it to me (and not in the nicest way he could)? Does he take his own kind of crazy pills? Is that why he looks like he always has a stick up his ass? …Okay, bad mental thought. I am not going to get hard off of fantasies of my therapist. That's just… He is pretty damned hot, though, I do say so myself._

_**O-kay.**__ Putting that aside, I'm out. Peace. Love and damnation for the world. Whatever, I tried to sound cool, m'kay. Cut me some slack._

_Then again, I'm still bored. I could write some more…_

-

But Sora Aoi decided against it. He thought he had written enough for a first entry (and a very personal one at that!), so he rolled over from his back and laid his stomach against his mattress, sighing. He bit the bottom bit of his pen, contemplating deeply.

The brunette teenager scanned his surroundings. His bedroom still looked the same as always—that was probably the only thing that hadn't change since 'The Incident' happened. Well, except for the towel covering up his stereo player. Not even daring his eyes to look at that old thing, he pried away and instead to stare out his window.

Tonight was another moonlit night, the huge white orb floating in space with all its glory shining down upon earth.

Sora snorted.

He hated the damned thing.

Walking away off his bed and approaching the sealed window, Sora unlatched it. Open, he stared out into the street. The streetlamps were flickering on around this time, and if he could squint hard enough, he could see the little tiny gnats and other bugs flying around the illuminating bulb. The blue-eyed boy always thought it funny, how insects were so deeply engaged and attracted to the light. But he could understand it, maybe a little.

It was like how he was first attracted to Naminé.

Sora rapidly started glaring holes into the windowsill. Why all of the sudden with the memory flashback? They always made his head throb in pain, and always left an antagonizing feeling in his body, his heart.

He snorted again in disgust. He needed some fresh air.

Sora grabbed his black hoddie, zipping it up. The wind picked up in the northern area, getting rather chilly. Cautiously, and without creating too much noise for his parents to knock at the door in suspicion, he heaved his weight towards his knee. Propping it against the windowsill and making use of his upper body, hauled the rest of his weight to his legs, jumping into the night.

Landing not so graciously onto the backyard, cringing at the callous pain around his butt—he was going to feel that in the morning for sure—Sora glanced at his window fleetingly, grinning.

"The night awaits us."

Leave the cheesy lines in the back of your consciousness, thought the brunette. He stood up; legs a little shaky, but he regained feeling after a moment or two. Sprinting off, having to hurtle over another obstacle—the front gate—the brunette felt more alive than ever.

His breath came out into puffs of hot air, steaming oxygen that exhaled and inhaled right back into his mouth and nose. He was quite fond with the bite of cold around rosy cheeks, eyes sparkling under the light of the streetlamps. The teenager was blindly running, not having a care in the world where his feet were leading him. After a glimpse or two of his surroundings, he deemed that he hadn't been around this part of the neighborhood before.

Unfamiliar building structures, various construction tools here and there, Sora later realized that this was the new part that was being built. The expansion had been happening since after school started, which Sora had completely forgotten about it. Not that it was important to remember or anything but he sensed a small pang of guilt. Don't know why, he thought, but it was there.

The boy continued to jog in a steady pace, arms and legs slightly pumping in movement. The only sounds that greeted him were the soft patting of the bottom of his yellow sneakers and the songs of crickets. Suddenly he felt cold, as another brief breeze crept upon him, and extremely lonely.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing, running out one o'clock in the fucking morning?"

Sora froze, hunched his body, petrified when someone spoke, someone who was around the vicinity. Someone who had spotted him.

A rapist? Pedophile, maybe a murderer ready to torture him and slice him to bits? Perhaps they would send the remains in an envelope and mail it to his parents? One's imagination could run wild in such a predicament.

"Man, talk about scared shitless with a capital S."

Slowly, ever so meticulously, the fifteen year old glanced over his shoulder. Under a shaft of neon light, a figure stood slouching adjacent to the unfinished stonewall that separated house property from natural woods. A slim male, maybe even skinnier than Sora, wearing a black leather jacket over a ripped band t-shirt and artistically ripped jeans. He eyed the brunette with a bemused expression upon his high cheekboned face. His eyes were bright green, especially illuminated by the streetlamp, there was a dancing brilliance in them. Two matching, conspicuous tattoos—Sora thought they looked significantly like teardrops—were placed under his green eyes, and a cigarette was protruding from his full, pink lips. Smoke rose from the burned end of the cigarette, swirling as the man shifted against the wall. A knitted black scarf was wrapped around his slightly long neck, nevertheless, that's not what put his appearance off.

A matching black beanie with cat ears sticking out was placed atop of the man's intricately styled red haired spikes.

Sora blinked, squinted, loosened his tense body momentarily to shake in giggling convulsions.

The other male closed his eyes, a smirk manifesting his face. "I'm glad I amuse you, oh night runner."

Sora coughed the last fits of laughter, rubbed a finger to wipe away a free tear on his eyes. "Ah, sorry. It's the hat, really, it is."

The redhead smiled, placing the cigarette between two fingers. "Kind of figured that out, Sherlock." He blew another puff of smoke from his mouth. Lips pursed in thought. "So, why are you joggin' around in the middle of the night, morning, whatever the hell you want to call it?"

Feeling as though he entered a calm, moderately casual conservation, Sora responded with a nonchalant shrug, not really knowing the real answer himself. True, the running was for fresh air, but he didn't know why he was actually here, in this part of the neighborhood—or soon to be part neighborhood.

His companion didn't press the subject any further, setting the thin cigarette back into his mouth. Dramatically spitting it out and mashing it with the heel of his black Chucks, the redhead let out a long sigh, his body relaxing. Sora didn't know when his feet had started moving, but next thing he knew he was next to the tall stranger, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach now.

The redhead must have sensed the discomfort, for he made a move to walk the other direction, when he stopped. "Hold on." In an instant, Sora's vision was filled with the face of the redhead, and he knew his cheeks were turning a healthy shade of scarlet.

Those bright emerald eyes blinked, face still coming closer. Finally, before Sora realized that the proximity was much too great for his hormonal body, the redhead scoffed. He pulled away, consequently Sora released a breath he didn't realize he was holding, prior to the redhead licked the back of his thumb and pressed the wet digit on the brunette's cheek.

Hence the reason why an "Eeep!" made its way out of his lips, jumping about two feet off the ground from the surprise feat. His hand immediately swapped at the redhead's invading one, an indignant pout jutting out.

"W-wha…what were you thinking… You…your thumb…wet…"

A perplexed red eyebrow rose. The redhead raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don't get your panties all bunched up. You had something on your cheek." Using a finger, he indicated the spot on his own cheek where the find that "something" on the younger male's. "It wasn't like I was hitting on you, trust me, you're not my type." He let out a teasing salute via two fingers. "I guaran-fucking-tee."

Sora's words came out in incoherent jumbles, mouth sputtering out anything intellectually correct. No way the brunette was at all shocked that the redhead had practically taken the words right out of his mouth. He could only hold onto his abused cheek tenderly as he continued to glower-pout the pervert.

Said pervert chuckled. It was a crisp sound that echoed into the bleak night. "By the way, the name's Axel. Axel. A-X-E-L. Got it memorized?" A wink was inserted at the end of the sentence like a punctuation mark.

The brunette's anger was not undeterred but rather further invoked. Axel. What a weird name, like that one old-timer metal rock singer?

Axel, with a bored air in his presence, albeit he still had that cocky smirk on his lips. Crossing his arms, as if trying to warm himself despite having a hefty leather jacket on tow. "Damn cold…" he muttered, breath turning shaky. He turned his attention back to the murderous look he was receiving from the smaller boy. "Hey," he asked through clenched teeth, "you wouldn't happen to know where Twilight Avenue is, would you, night runner?"

Sora, still furious, about to open his mouth to tell the crazy psycho that he would report this to the police. That he was a pervert that needed to be taken away into prison for a long time for trying to molest a poor fifteen year old minor, when he stopped as Axel's words sank in.

The brunette cocked his head to the side slightly, blinked at the huddled figure of the taller guy. "Twilight Avenue?" The blue-eyed boy looked around, spotted a sign around the corner, near the streetlamp there were under. "Dude…this is Papou Grove." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Twilight is all the way on the other side."

How could someone really get those two places mixed up, was a mystery to Sora, but there was always that not so bright crayon in the box.

Axel blinked at Sora's information, arms almost appearing to choke him in their grasp, though the arms were relatively skinny in size. The outlook could be seen to be comical, the redhead with a cat-eared beanie in a rather hardcore outfit shivering in the cold, an extremely confounded expression across his face. "You shitting me." It came out completely and obviously doubtful.

"I shit you not."

"…_Damn._"

_-_

_To be continued…_

-

**Beni-Chuu's Farewell(s):**

Ah. Well. This chapter seemed to be more of a filler chapter to me, y'know? It took quite a turn away from the hard, raw angst, but I think it's okay, right? I tried to lighten the mood a bit, add some comedy, seeing already the plot twists that would further dampen the characters' perkiness—or lack thereof.

And I didn't even see Axel appearing so early in this story, but he did. And I'm feeling quite giddy about it too. I love Axel, if you hadn't noticed, and I was highly livid when he died in such a way in the second game. But I loved his dying speech. I love you forever, Axel! Axel and Roxas romping forever!

…Ahem. Excuse me for that…distraction of mine. Please review. It'll make me happy and jumpy all inside, I might even start _dancing_. –smiles-

**End.**


	4. Dead Wrong

**Beni-Chuu's Note(s):**

A note of apology for taking so long to update, AP Lang and Chemistry plus final exams (just junior and senior year in a whole) assassinated my writing juices and time to smithereens. –cries- And yeah, I got into college? –inner screaming-

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any characters part of the Kingdom Hearts almost-like-a-trilogy series. If I did, well, you know the rest of the story. And none of the lyrics used are mine.

**Warning(s):** Adult content (ZOMG Riku wanks off! Tee hee.), possible crude language, reader discretion advised. Too much Riku-exposure for those who wanted more Sora (Sora, sorry babe, but you'll get your limelight back…soon? Maybe? It's iffy right now…)

Also… I decided not have this beta'd, because seriously, I didn't want to suddenly ask them that I finally decided to update…after _TWO_ years. Although, I'm happy to comply with them or any one else still interested if they say that they do. –smiles but is really begging for them to look back on the previous chapters and this one for grammatical mistakes, because seriously, it'd help- Drop a message please.

**Thanks:** To reviewers, readers, and beta-readers. I'm proud that I get to write for such a positive audience.

**End.**

-

**Dead Wrong**

-

"_So…you decided to come down here. In the suburbs. Where you hate it."_

"_Yeah. I thought you'd be, I don't know, more _enthusiastic_."_

"_What? With you coming here to see me after all this time just to probably be the asshole you are? _Fuck_ you."_

-

Rewind mode. Then pause. Fast forward, pause, rewind again.

That was how Riku felt for the past few days. That was what he wanted to do—pause his life completely—rather than spend each waking day with a monotonous and pessimistic outlook on life; he'd have wanted to spend each lasting second with a certain someone.

But that was virtually impossible right now.

He also felt zombie-like, as if his movements weren't his own. Well, except for the throbbing pains that shot through his entire body whenever he disrupted the many ministrations of his mother's latest show of affection, he didn't feel alive.

When had he ever felt so dead, the teenager pondered, but banished such thoughts with a shake of his head while he walked down the school hallways to get to his locker.

Thinking like that only landed you to a possibly worse hell than you were living in presently.

He briskly ran a hand through his hair, yanking the ends abrasively. Heaving a breath he didn't even know he was holding, Riku retrieved whatever materials he needed for third block, stopped and groaned.

The night before this morning had consisted of his mother going on another of her sudden tantrums, chanting and screaming how God would smite upon Larxene and him, and in the flurry of bodies trying to fight for dominance, one of his binders had fallen out of his opened book bag whilst he slammed the leathered object to his mother's back.

Subsequently, he received at least—condensing it—seven slaps in succession to his stomach from the bible his mother oh so brandished in her ring-clad hand.

When he was little, maybe around six years old, he would like to admire his petite mother's hands, touching the smooth surface of her flesh as he traced every minuscule detail of each of her rings. If he had the time to close his eyes and envision such memories, he may have been able to recall the hardness of the gems intricately decorated around the gold bands.

However, those days were over, ever since _that_ happened, back in the islands.

Again the junior shook his head sideways, hair ruffling and swaying along the sudden movement, sighing for the third time in a day. It seemed as if with each passing period, Riku had to input a fluid sigh to signify his distaste to actually being back in school. And now, he had forgotten to retrieve the third period binder he left back in the living room where the fighting had took placed.

He was reminded of this vital information when he finally made it to class.

There was this one part that he now realized was a plausible enough reason to smash his hand through one of the classroom windows. Last night's homework was needed to be turned in and checked by the teacher.

The teacher, a English lit major from back in the 80s –still stuck in that particular time period fashionably, what with her hideous neon-makeup and brightly mixed eccentric clothing—smiled sweetly, the wrinkles on her face deepening. Riku had lost all hope to ever recall her name—damn his inability to remember people's names—, could only clench and unclench his fists, was ready to split open another glass window if it were possible.

"Now, Mr. Yamada," she tooted childishly, pursing her bright pink lips. "You know full and well I cannot actually accept any excuses as to why you do not have your homework. But," she pressed on, scribbling onto the clipboard in her hand. The homework checklist, "I'll make an exception, since you were not here."

A smile was added. Riku involuntarily winced, but hid it well as he sunk deeper into his chair, textbook covering his mouth; there were lipstick marks on her yellow-tinted teeth.

"I would like to have it by tomorrow, first thing."

She then sauntered up the remaining aisle of desks, marking off the rest of the students who had and didn't have the assignment. Riku placed his relatively hot forehead against the surface of his desk, easing into the cooling sensation from it. A throbbing contraction was making its way to his head, rapidly forming into a migraine.

Oh, he thought, today was going to be one fucking long day.

-

"_Now, Riku, you know your mother taught you better about-"_

"_Oh, now you want to talk about why my home-training isn't so fine and dandy, you bastard?"_

"_Look, Riku. Stop being such a pussy and accept that-"_

"_Accept what? That my life fucking sucks while yours doesn't? Screw you, man, I hope you deep-throat your own misery."_

"…_You're goddamn problems have nothing to do with me."_

-

By the time it was lunch period, he immediately cursed under his breath.

Before his long absence, Riku, although still popular, didn't receive as many stares as he was getting now. Everyone's eyes seemed to be on him. Muffled whispers came towards his direction. Subtle fingers pointed when he walked down the corridors. He obviously pretended to be oblivious, but this was too much.

People were talking about him behind his back, questioning amongst each other how those bruises on his face came to be.

Some speculated that he, being the tough-ass everyone saw him as, got into a huge fight with one of the residential gangs and fortunately came out in one piece, along with some wounds of his own.

Others thought it was just for show, probably makeup, that he only wanted everyone's attention. And there were the few who kept their comments to themselves, Riku silently thanking them.

As he slid his tray off the lunch assembly line, the white-haired male growled in his throat, eye twitching slightly. His hands tightened their grip around the tray until the knuckles went white, but one could not tell, since a freshly wrapped bandage was enclosed around his injured hand.

Closing his eyes slowly, he exhaled, hoping to release the suppressed tension he had been holding on to since he woke up this morning.

Riku only wished to crawl back into the safe haven of his sheets, and as wimpy as it sounds, he wanted to shed some tears that needed to be liberated. But pride would not allow such instances, so he swelled up his chest, loosened the stressful chokehold on the school's lunch tray and walked towards the usual destination.

It wasn't the best of places to sit at, it was just a table residing next to one of the cafeteria windows, and all the popular kids liked to congregate there. They always welcomed the junior with open arms, but today seemed different.

As soon as Riku made the turn to occupy his usual spot at the very end of the table, the one nearest by the exit of the double doors, the popular group stopped their lively chitchat and looked up. All eyes were on him: he paralyzed under their fettering gazes.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

And he swerved towards the other direction, knowing fully well he was not so evidently invited. It was the new look of bruising cheeks, bandaged chins, gauzed up arms, split lip about to bleed, wrinkled yellow shirt and jeans, and slightly tattered black Converses that seemed to put off his accustomed confident appearance.

Despite the lack of acceptance by the typical crowd he associated with, the teenager wasn't as upset with the turn of events as he thought he _should _be. Actually, a smirk rested on his face.

Inconspicuously making his way through the various cliques, Riku finally found an empty table and sat down halfway, leaving one leg tucked under the table, the other jutting out. Because the table was positioned against the wall, he was able to lean against something as he took a small bite of the sloppy Joe. He absentmindedly chewed. It wasn't sufficient enough to call it appealing in taste; regardless, Riku didn't care about it.

At least no one was brave enough to bother him as he ate and, before he knew it, lunch was over. In fact, he strode through the back talk whispering, the consistent stealing glances, the obtrusive pointing with his trademark smirk.

"Fuck you all," was also added like a punctuation mark.

Later, the final bell rang all through the school building, signaling the end of the day. Riku finished giving his late homework assignment to the 80's impersonator before reaching his locker to make sure he had everything he needed for his makeup work. It was tons of homework and workbook assignments from various classes, a one five-paged essay for Chemistry, and a slight imitation of a project.

The white-haired male was about to slip another one of his hefty textbooks into his book bag when he noticed a pair of shoes in his vision. He blinked, noticing that the pair of shoes multiplied to at least five pairs and looked up.

A dangerously angry Roxas and Hayner, a fuming Kairi tapping her lilac sandaled foot impatiently against the tiled floor, a frowning Olette and timid Pence stood before Riku.

He blinked again. Then his lips curved into a cocky leer and he shoved the last of his stuff into his bag. Zipping it closed, he incited what he wanted to know. "Why the hell you all ganging up on me?" He stood up straight and slung the bag over his shoulder, balancing it against the body part before tucking his hands into his pocket. The leer deepened. "I'd like an answer now or I'm leaving."

Stressing his point, he made a step forward only to have Roxas jump in front of him, blocking the exit.

"You're not leaving," seethed the blond, "until you start explaining why you've been so calm when everyone else's on the edge."

One of Riku's eyebrows had arched in one sinuous movement. "What do you mean?" he said in feigned curiosity. "I have no idea what you're-"

"To hell you don't know what I'm talking!" Roxas bellowed, grabbing a fistful of Riku's shirt and, despite the blonde's exterior look of being petite and weak, he slammed his upperclassmen using his elbow as leverage onto one of the lockers, the latter banging the back of his head against the metal surface. During the impact, Riku lost hold of his book bag, making it plummet to the ground.

"Let me at him!" Hayner said indignantly, ready to aim a punch on the junior. The sophomores tightened their circle around him, similar to a pack of feral beasts cornering their prey.

The back of Riku's head was throbbing dully and Roxas's bony forearm pressed against his throat; he winced slightly, for the rest of his body was under damage as well. This was not how he was picturing the rest of his Wednesday afternoon, thank you very much.

Riku rolled his eyes.

"Really, I'm not seeing this whole predicament fair at all." His eyes scanned the group then returned down to eye Roxas with a patient yet highly amused expression. "Man…what's with you stupid underclassmen always trying to pick a fight with me?"

"Damn you, Riku! Damn you to hell!" Roxas's eyes glazed with inexorable anger that only grew with each passing second. His hold did not relent. "That's why I hate you! You act like nothing is wrong when every single goddamned thing is so _wrong_!" Spit flew between his teeth.

Yet Riku remained calm, rather flat upon approaching his reaction.

"I hate your fucking guts! I _hate_ you! _You God damned, sonavabitch, asswiping,_ _motha-fucking_ bastard!"

Then again, what was he supposed to do, punch the underclassman? The junior was already in a fix with the school's administration, after oh so courteously damaging one of the school door windows, having missed multiple days of school, and with the whole ordeal he had had with this same underclassman who harassed him in the cafeteria the other day.

So, there weren't many options left. Which led him to do what was only instinct.

Inclining his head, Riku laughed. It wasn't one of those full-blown kinds, but an abrupt, spur of the moment, chuckle that only crescendo-ed into a slightly maniacal one.

Roxas's hold on Riku's collar slackened at the sudden change of emotion, and he couldn't help but blink puzzlingly yet irritatingly. Even when he started shaking the white-haired male, the latter continued to chuckle audibly, head bobbing back and fro, never stopping the given tempo he set for himself. The blond was becoming almost desperate, ready to bash his upperclassman's head against his locker door multiple times, and with Riku's incessant laughing Roxas was beginning to lose self-control.

However, as soon as Riku's sudden laughter died to leave an unsettling silence in its wake, Roxas could not help but notice something and smirk upon it.

"Y'know, I really have to thank whoever kissed their knuckles against your pretty face—they did a job well done."

Abruptly, Riku pried Roxas's fingers from his shirt and flung the blond towards the ring of his friends; they caught him (mostly Pence caught Roxas) and they both stumbled backwards, almost landing in a heap of limbs. The girls scrambled to the other direction, practically shaking in the knees. They threw identical appalled expressions to their upperclassman, lips trembling and ready to fire any blurts of ammunition to break his ego.

"What about our friend, Riku?" Kairi's voice piped up, barely more than a whisper, from the unfathomable silence that carried its weight across the teenagers like an invisible veil. "What about our friend?" Riku felt that her words were not for his actions against her blond cousin, but for someone who dearly needed to be here. For _him_. Her eyes were beginning to brim with wet, her mouth catching the tears as she raised her voice throughout the empty corridor.

"WHAT ABOUT HIM?!"

It rang like an alarming indicator signaling ensuing danger. It pulled his heartstrings and tugged so forcefully he felt them snap in his rib cage. It rendered everyone present helpless in its wake.

He didn't care.

Snarling and barely inhibiting the growing facetious laughter teasing the pits of his self, the white-haired teen dusted his body free of underclassmen germs.

But his heart continued to beat in a rapid and cursory manner, as if the living, pumping organ would vigorously burst out from his chest; his breaths came out in short bursts; his temples thudded, drumming in a staccato beat of fear. _Fear_. He could smell it in him.

Riku narrowed his eyes dangerously. He licked his lips, ready to slaughter the kids with awful, sordid comments and flashy fists he had learned and utilized back in the islands; he instead opted to clamp his mouth shut. It was to be a futile attempt he realized.

Letting out a compulsive sigh, he straightened his composure and the strap of his book bag back onto his shoulder—a burden to bear by himself. Riku hurriedly made his way past them, almost having the inclination of stomping his Converse-clad feet on Roxas's gut, but for the better decided against it.

He turned on his heel, gave one last backing glance, impulsively looking away from the red-head's eyes, and propped his middle finger up in the air as consequence to Roxas's last biting remark.

"Your mom." He placed a smirk on his face, but his eyes told a different story.

-

"_You, Axel, are one sick son of a bitch."_

-

"I'm home."

The declarative statement was not an attempt to feel at ease, he realized as soon as he stepped over the pristine threshold, eyes cursorily scanning around the surroundings with apprehension, nor a way to announce his arrival to fall upon deaf ears. It was not a means of escape from the cruel reality either. It was his way to cope in the meantime, to understand that life could be worst, that he could have been dead this morning, never to wake up again. Or, he could have been found as an emaciating corpse in a raggedy cardboard box on the side of the street, flesh rotting away.

There could have been more or less with his present circumstances if there was a chance, but there wasn't, so he let go of the tight grip around his lungs with exasperating relief.

Riku Yamada took another look around the living room before nose-diving into the cushions of the nearest loveseat. The fabric rustled under his weight, the ripples of leather digging into his jeans and skin, especially around the side of his face that landed on the couch. He winced slightly from the cool of the touch, and his mind started to reel…

The memories were horrible, he knew, but they were there, still there. Still. Waiting. His face turned crestfallen whenever they conjured out of the blue, and he felt powerless, the usurping of happiness rushing out of him as despair became a substitute for it. Whatever happened to his barrier, his armor, that resilient, thick shield that protected him from any sort of harm? Where was it now? Discarded like everything else back in the islands? Why couldn't he abandon all the things that haunted him, that tormented him, that brought nothing but shame and fear into his life?

When did he become so scared of living?

After a while, the boy made a beeline to the kitchen, stomach grumbling uncontrollably. He felt the muscles being eaten away. However, something caught his eye before the sparse quantity of food hidden in the cupboards did.

A note hung on the kitchen counter, neatly scrawled in fancy handwriting. Larxene, Riku instantly thought at the sight of the yellow sticky note that lay before him. Ripping it off the marble surface, he read over it once while opening the refrigerator to pour out some milk into a glass cup.

—_Hey, there's some leftover from last night's dinner in the fridge. I'm sorry it wasn't the best thing, but it's better than the garbage we used to eat back home, huh? Anyways, if you haven't noticed, I won't be back until later, so do what you have to do. Oh, and please don't give Mom too much trouble, okay? She's had it rough._

_Anyways, don't have too much fun while I'm gone. Love you._

—_LarXene—_

Riku, the grammatically correct side of him (also can be read as the manifestation of boredom Riku), scrutinized over his sister's signature, patronizing to himself that X's were not meant to be capitalized in the middle of words or names. He frowned at the antic, more disappointed in the fact that school continued to rule his mindset even after hours than the prospect of spending an evening alone, without the comforting presence of his older sibling.

The frown deepened and contorted into a scowl not too much later.

He wanted to punch through something, a window, anything that could graze through his knuckles to open the old wounds. Hell, he'd have even wanted to make some new ones, fabricate a lie if he needed to do it. But he knew that wasn't what he wanted to do. Surely, there was more to the reasoning.

Signs of the migraine coming to worsen the conditions of his late afternoon, he crumpled the yellow sticky note, which still held fast to his palm, and desperately made an attempt to chuck it over the trashcan. The paper made a flimsy show of holding dearly to Riku until its glue lessened to a mere substance of gumminess; it flew gently to the ground.

Riku did not take heed to pick up the mess, instead trampling his socked-feet upon it with virulence, unsatisfied indignation, relentless and not yet sated determination.

Angry, hurt, and even disheartened, Riku stomped off to his room, glass of milk still in hand, slamming the door and allowing the sound to echo and ricochet off the walls of the empty house. The teenager always wondered why his mother wanted to even _think_ about purchasing such a luxurious, yet spacious home that held no homely worth of warmth, kindness, love…

He snorted. Love was an abstract, fruitless concept of life. It brought impossible fantasies and plunged a black and white world into shades of gray. There were no rose-tinted realities to run off to, to escape to, to hide into, to have reason to turn away from the world. It didn't exist, he thought. It _can't_ exist.

The image of brown spikes and cloudless, blue eyes whirled inside his head, behind closed eyelids, condescending and belittling him…

…A light that was dying yet still shimmered with such a brilliance it rivaled with the sun's.

A forgotten smile slunk through his thoughts (a hand surrounded him), wrapping its hold tenaciously to the corners of his mind (squeezed), and he didn't want to be released.

He poured the rest of the white condiments over his jeans, hardly caring that the action left a sticky substance between his legs or that _the _feeling had spread across his chest as well. He bit his lip as the ragged cry almost abandoned through shaky teeth.

Riku wished that certain day again, near the library (and fuck—What the hell was he thinking, kissing the kid?), wished nothing had happened between them and wished that something had progressed. Then he'd be able to live life normally.

(Supple lips pressed against his, moving, still, moving forever in a dance of nothing and everything, of life, of desperation, of…_salvation_.)

He wiped his hand against the right side of his soaked jeans.

Never before had such emotions damaged him, not since the old days. The young male would not be known as being of a passionate type—he even confesses that all his relationships went down the drain because of his commitment, or lack thereof. Axel calls him a coward. Others call him a player. Riku calls himself nobody.

Barely moving, breathing, blinking slowly, and still basking in the afterglow (fuck, masturbating was just plain _retarded_…), he kept his head down, as if raising it would mean he would have to face his problems in a full fledge assault. How a terrible yet so bittersweet smiled marred his features, as if it didn't belong there. He didn't belong here.

Slowly, he sought the strength of his legs to rip him away from the floor and slam his entire being upon the surface of his bed. The mattress creaked under the forceful and disruptive pressure; the covers instantly enveloped him. A soft drumming of his heart beating against his rib cage almost made him jolt from his position—he was vulnerable in this state, so vulnerable it could almost break him. Almost.

The white-haired male buried his body deeper into his comforter, maybe in hopes of suffocating. He snorted. When the fuck did he become so damned emo?

_Fuck the poetry, dammit._

With that thought, he sat up straight, clamping slightly sweaty palms together in fists. Memories had almost drowned him again. Again. It was a sickening, tedious process.

Then he settled himself under ultimate silence, contemplating his next actions. A rumbling emitted through the tension, signaling that his stomach was yet to be sated by food; meticulously and hesitatingly Riku made a beeline towards the kitchen until the phone rang, the noise echoing through the deafening quiet.

Mentally cursing, Riku cradled the phone against his ear by hoisting it with his shoulder as he opened the fridge door, which released an eerie neon light. "'Ello?"

"Yo."

Riku's eyes bore anger and an emotion he couldn't quite identify. "Who told you this goddamn number?"

"Chill, chill," the voice on the other line said. "God, what's with the fucked up hostility?" It seemed the voice raised a few volume notches. There was loud background music; Riku recognized it immediately as party music. Hell, he was King of Parties. _Was _being the keyword.

Riku intentionally sighed audibly. "Make this quick, asshole."

So basically, Riku deduced, Axel was at a kick ass party wherein there were multiple distractions, hot chicks ready to give their last dying dignities away as long as it was someone with either drugs or a nice face, silly games of Truth-and-Swig and other unmentionable, fucked up games that morons would lag their tails and devour minors in their sick, twisted mind fucks.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya." A few seconds of shuffling. "Well…hmm… How should I put this?" Another pause, and what had seemed like a loud crash, met Riku's ears. "Uh…_shit_…"

Riku found himself tapping his foot impatiently, shifting a little to grasp some leftover Chinese nestled between the pickle jar and milk carton. It smelt fine. "My patience's growing thin, Axel, as if that'd actually bother you."

There was silence, and Riku felt the slightest twinge of guilt, which was rightfully swallowed down by the time he stuffed his face with stale fried rice.

"You're still mad, huh?"

_Mad _doesn't even cut it—Riku almost interjected, but held his tongue. He would not let his once best friend make him to sink so low, would not let him have that satisfaction. Taking a long and hard sigh, the boy stifled body tremors.

"I hear ya," Axel repeated again despite the lack of substance to actually hear anything, what with Riku's silent treatment. "Okay, get this…" Suddenly, the voice was cut off due to growing static and what sounded like a tussle—"Hey – whoa! _My hat_! And _my phone_! Give me my goddamned cell back – the hell?!"—Another pause and then—"I'M A FUCKING MAN-WHORE!"

Riku froze.

He removed the phone from his ear and stared at it incredulously. There could have been so many explanations, each told in different manners, and could take about half the week to fully be comprehended. After blinking for about forty-five seconds, lips tight and jaw set, he puffed his chest, brought the phone near his mouth, and screamed.

"WHAT THE FUCK, AXEL?!"

- -

Axel Haycraft-minus his kitty-beanie scratched his head once his now hung up cell landed back in his grasp and left the hand there by his neck. He thought it was incredibly stupid—cool, calm, collected Riku just went ape-shit—and it wasn't _Axel_ who even made him go grade-A ballistic. It was the snot-nosed midnight runner-cum-tour guide who was, at the moment, preoccupied with booty-shaking with any thing with two legs and showcasing his glow in the dark teeth (caused by the small glow sticks that he shoved into his mouth) to anyone bound to notice. Which was to say, was everyone in the vicinity.

It sure as hell fascinated the redhead. And according to most, that was not easy to come by.

Axel flexed his neck muscles with his hand.

Sora Aoki (the name was given only under the influence of much prodding and attempted molestation) was anything but ordinary. And that could especially be the case now, since he was under the influence and all. Axel rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, the rainbow lights flashing before him; a little alcohol never hurt anybody.

In actuality, Axel was patting his back on succeeding to drag ickle midnight runner to a friend's early spring break party. It went something like this:

**Axel Haycraft:** …Shit. So, like, is there no way of me getting to Twilight Av. at the moment?

**Sora Aoki: **(_eyes Axel and his kitty-beanie with something akin to suspicion_) …You could go around the back of this street, cut through the woods, pass the town's old mansion, and arrive at its entrance. But that's only if you're _that _crazy to go through the woods without getting lost at this hour.

**AH:** Ah. I see. (_huddles into jacket_) So you going to show me?

**SA:** Show you what? (_covers up his chest with crossed hands, as if to shield himself_)

**AH:** (_quirks an eyebrow_) …Right. I meant, you going to lead the way?

**SA:** To the woods? (_snorts, but keeps his hands in place_) Hell no. You're a pervert, and where in my right mind would I let some perv persuade me to lead him into an _abandoned_, _empty_ place, only to have his dirty way with as compensation? Uh…no. The answer is hell-to-the-naw.

**AH:** Look, you little pussy. (_looks at wristwatch briefly, mumbles a "It i_sn't_ one in the morning…huh?"_) I really don't have the time, or the patience, to deal with you, so you either just take me to TA, or I'm dragging your cute ass straight to the nearest police station.

**SA:** (_flails arms wildly_) You don't even _know_ where the nearest police station is!

**AH:** I don't have to! (_produces a cellular device from the pocket of his jeans_) You see this? (_shakes it with emphasis_) This is what I can use to track down a station, and trust me, I have the pair to call the police on a minor like yourself for being out on your own this fucking late at night. And by the time they arrive, I would have had my "dirty way" with you AND have the mess cleaned up, mind you! I guaran-FUCKING-tee.

**SA:** … (_in complete shock_)

**AH:** (_long dramatic pause_) …So, you going to lead or what?

**SA:** …

**AH:** (_waggles eyebrows and cellular device_)

**SA:** … (_glares and pouts simultaneously_) …It's this way.

And so, a trip through the woods (an experience Axel never wanted to endure again with Sora, because the kid was such a clever joker, the little fucker…), a tread through an unoccupied property, a fence-jump that nearly skinned Sora's jeans to smithereens (Axel got his revenge by quoting "A Kodak moment" while utilizing his cam phone), more blackmail ("It'd be your first party, what could you lose?"), crashing city dumpsters, passing Sora as eighteen ("He's my cousin…thrice removed, Marly! C'mon!"), fourteen glow sticks, and seven cups later the pair were in this particular situation. It was all bliss and galore.

But by the end of the night, by the sound of Riku gnashing his teeth and bellowing obscenities that could make the devil even blush, Axel'd be a dead man. Which didn't deter the redhead at all, for all he cared. Hell, it'd make the night much more eventful—(and Axel would definitely forget that it was nearly two in the morning by the time "morning" actually came).

Glancing, Axel noted Sora was still on his mission to wiggle his cute behind on every unsuspecting partygoer present, some enjoying the view more than others, and something protective rippled through the man's body. Hell, some of these people were barbarians and didn't know when to quit. Sora was like a bleeding fish amongst a horde of starving sharks.

Axel snorted. Whoa, English 101 just invaded his mental thinking for a moment. He proceeded to distract himself of further musings by treating himself to some spiked crystal pinky. It was a concoction common in such parties, courtesy of Axel's rings of friends, one of them obviously hosting the party—Marluxia, that sneaky Biology major—and he, being a reliable acquaintance, informed Axel that he was in Twilight Avenue.

Well, it now defeated the purpose to meet Riku at his house, anyway, because with Riku's angry, clipped tone of indulging Axel with threats of cutting his neck once he found him before demanding an address and hanging up it seemed he was on his way over.

Axel poured himself another cup and drained it. Green eyes scanned the room, especially around the room's makeshift dance room where people were gyrating, gliding, swinging, and hollering with abandon. It was a scene so familiar to Axel, and something he wished to escape from.

Averting his eyes to his empty cup, he shook his wrist and checked his Batman watch. Shit. It was already two in the morning. Which meant that he had found Sora at about twelve, not one. Hmm, his sense of time was being wacky again.

There came another crash, and Axel looked up. "Fuck…" Sora was nowhere in sight.

Okay, so there are three things Axel Haycraft is fucking terrified of—shit, one was his damned refrigerator because there is always something in there that'd bite his head off (Dem keeps telling him if he cleaned it out every month there wouldn't be a problem, but then again, who the hell was Dem to tell him?); two, kids with blonde hair and blue eyes so cold they struck ice-bitch so far up Axel's ass he succumbed to imaginary pneumonia for six months; and three, Riku on a holier-than-Axel mission to murder said redhead.

Axel scratched his head again and trudged through the crowd of flesh-sucking adolescents and sweaty stranglers who were hoping to have some action, a good time tonight.

Chuck-clad feet kicked away discarded plastic cups dusted on the once immaculate carpet, and for Lordy's sake, Axel even had to perform a bootleg version of _grand jeté_ over a possible floor-orgy. Not an eventful sight to see, what of flailing arms, skinny legs striking spectators, muffled screams, and an almost meet-and-greet destined to happen with a wall and Axel's nose.

The lights were eternally flickering on and off, the streams of rainbow hitting everything with a ray of some neon color, some even highlighting on the make-outers, the gamers, and the raunchies. Things were getting pretty nasty and were definitely harsh-ing Axel's mellow.

But only after he found scrawny midnight-runner.

Continuing the process of pushing people out of his way and squeezing through appendages and the sort, Axel dodged a spray of beer from a busted can in time to spot Sora (wearing his kitty-beanie) twirling about, arms outstretched and singing Metric at the top of his lungs—"_All the gold, and the guns, and the girls, couldn't get you off!"—_while a crowd encircled him like a bunch of vultures.

Axel hurriedly made his way in center and jerked the kid out before someone decided that Sora had plenty enough to be finally placated, simultaneously seizing his beanie back onto his head. There were some disappointed groans around the room and Axel just shouted a "Nothing to see here, people! Get back to your partying!"

"Aw, Axel, put the kid back onto the dance floor!" They demanded, some even bargaining in more inappropriate ways.

Axel gave them the bird, with his skull-ring-clad pinky.

Inevitably, because the inebriated brunet did not like to be ignored any longer, Sora wrapped his lithe arms around Axel's long neck and dangled; he even took a prolonged sniff of his leather jacket. "You smell _super_ good, Ax!"

The redhead winced at the nickname, because it divulged bad memories that needed to be repressed and by the sheer awkwardness of the situation. How many hours ago did he pick this kid up?

"Sorry, Sora, but this is pretty awkward." Attempting to pry away jailbait from him, Axel maneuvered the said boy gently, until Sora unlatched himself in order to launch himself on the redhead's back for a piggyback ride (also having the decency to spit out a glow stick at someone's head). The masses were closing in on them, so Axel felt far more than uncomfortable of having a fifteen year old pressing his body against his back, handling more than he should have on just a one-night introduction to each other. And there was that bothersome sensation of drunk-breath against his receptive ears: Sora singing—more like bellowing—the next song's lyrics.

"…_Oh shit, shake that ass, ma, move it like a gypsy  
Stop, woah, back it up, now let me see your hips SWING  
Stop, woah, back it up, now let me see your hips SWING  
Now drop it looooow and let me see your hips SWING  
Down to the floooor now let me see your hips SWING  
Down to the floooor now let me see your hips SWING!"_

"Oh _HELL_ no," Axel's eyebrows skyrocketed. "Are you serious? WHO PUT FUCKING _SAVAGE_ ON THE PLAYLIST?!"

His eyes scored out the glass slide doors leading to the patio outside and hauled both of them out into the open night, placing the brunet gingerly in a hammock situated between two generic palm trees before sliding the doors shut with a thunderous bang. Taking a deep breath, the redhead produced a cigarette, lit it, and dragged for a while before puffing out quick breaths of relaxation.

Ah. Nicotine at last. Axel peered sideways, shifting his shoulders to snuggle inside the leather jacket to keep from the spring chill.

A far-off giggle reverberated as Axel made his way back to the hammock, scraping a chair beside Sora, who was plastered beyond belief. He positioned himself by sitting with the back of the chair against his chest and slouched forward.

"Oh, man, have you gotten me screwed." Axel proclaimed, cigarette dangling from the edge of his mouth, chin resting on crossed forearms.

Sora's face was warm and red from the alcohol, and he had a shit-eating grin stretched across it. The brunet's hair looked like a hellava mess, what with party strings and sparkly confetti tangled in it, and the boy only made it worse by running his fingers wildly through it as he burst into an uncontrollable fit of mirth. While doing so he spat more glow sticks out, the little yellow light still brightly illuminated as it landed on the patio's pavement. Despite the constrictions of the hammock, Sora found a way to straighten his legs up and swing them back and fro, like he was pedaling mid-air.

What blew Axel out of the water though was when cheery, bum-shaking Sora rendered into chocked, paralyzed Sora, putting his mobile legs back onto the hammock, silent as death, into maudlin, weeping Sora.

It wasn't a pretty process either: The kid looked upbeat and happy for the most part, practically squealing in jubilation and everything else gaga-happy (Axel snorted at the sheer audacity of it) before completely shutting up, clamming himself, his throat audibly constricting itself (Axel worriedly frowned), and then thrashed his little arms about, fists flying everywhere and nowhere, whimpers coming from the depths of his heaving chest. Axel balked, his cigarette almost consumed due to the swift transitions. It was unpleasant, because the redhead didn't know if Sora was only acting this way because of the dissipating effects of the crystal pinky or if he was truly mental.

It could have been both.

"Hey," Axel muttered quietly, instinctively reaching Sora's side in a blink of an eye. He fastidiously touched the boy's shoulder. Sora noticed the hand ruthlessly, snapping his head to the side, his tenacious stare rooting Axel to the spot. His chapped lips were being tortured and abused by his teeth, his canines digging deep into the skin to leave indentions.

That was until those same teeth sunk right onto the flesh of Axel's wrist.

-

_To be continued…_

-

**Beni-Chuu's Afterthoughts: **

And there goes the cliffhanger.

Y'know, I've noticed that for the past three chapters the total of words for each one has escalated by around a thousand. Weird, because I just broke that chain with this sucker here. –sheepish smile- So yeah, two years. TWO. Wow. I can't believe I haven't even looked at this. It took me forever to get through this chapter, because I wanted to spazz out with more Axel-time, and then develop Riku some more, and maybe sneak some yaoi action in, but it didn't go as planned, because Sora wanted to be a virgin, and wouldn't wiggle his bum in front of sexually frustrated Riku, who definitely needs to take a friggin' chill pill and couldn't bring his sorry ass faster to save Sora from biting Axel (oh, god, I think Big Red has a masochistic streak) and—my, am I rambling?

Anyways, yeah, that chapter hopefully did not label itself as a filler. I mean, I liked writing it (Riku wanking off? Come on!), and the glow sticks and mouth combo was something to be snarking about. Yeah. My life ish boring until I haul my ass to university (whoot!).

Plus, for brownie points, I'll start to put actual Disney characters in here. Yay! You can even suggest which characters you would like to have, and maybe to elaborate on what setting they could play in this story. Or maybe not. –smiles-

And I'd really like to get a healthy supply of reviews, critics, anything. Pretty please? A healthy number of ten reviews for this will make my day. :D

**End.**


	5. Awakened Rage, part i

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any characters part of the Kingdom Hearts almost-like-a-trilogy series. If I did, well, you know the rest of the story. And none of the lyrics used are mine.

**Warning(s):** Adult themes. Ze Yaoi, though slow in the making. Language. Axel speaking _en espa__ñ__ol_. Long chapter. Reader discretion advised.

**Thanks:** To anyone. Especially the reviewers from the last chapter (oh, wow, the comments really boosted my writing muscles!), the ten people who have this on their favorites, and the nineteen who've alerted this. Really. I have nothing to say to describe my enthusiasm to be writing for a great audience.

And absolutely, to my beta-reader, **Riku-Stalker.** You are just made of pure win! And I can't forget my beloved first wifey, SUNSHINE. She is dying to get this. But, unlike other readers, she knows where I live… -yikes!-

**End.**

-

**Awakened Rage,  
part i**

-

"… _Hey."_

"_Hey."_

"_Um…wow, we haven't talked in—"_

"_Months, Kairi, I know. I _always_ knew."_

-

"… 'Alternatively, self-injury may be a means of feeling something, even if the sensation is unpleasant and painful'—Oh, Roxas? The big bowl is in the cabinet above the oven, yeah—that one with the flower patterns… 'Those who self-injure sometimes describe feelings of emptiness or numbness, or in other words anhedonia and physical pain may be a relief from these feelings.'"

Meticulously, Kairi carried the bowl her cousin handed to her into the dining room, placing it at the center of the table, where her aunt retrieved it to fill it with salad.

Her aunt, a lanky, tall woman of high maintenance and pursed lips, fiery red hair pinned back, thanked her briskly; though, she eyed her only niece curiously.

It really wasn't the first time the girl's antics puzzled her prim-a-donna of an aunt.

Whilst she traced her steps back, Kairi recited, "'A person may be detached from himself or herself, detached from life, numb and unfeeling. They may then recognize the need to function more, or have a desire to feel real again, and a decision is made to create sensation and 'wake up'." She looked up, and met Roxas's queried stare.

"What?"

Roxas shook his head, opened his mouth, breathed, and clamped his lips shut. For a few seconds they stood silently in the middle of the kitchen; the atmosphere pregnant with tension and something Kairi couldn't quite describe as anything but anger. Her blond cousin's eyes narrowed dangerously, turning into slits of blue malice and hurt—a raw look she had not witnessed for months now.

But she saw a small magnitude of it. Once. A year ago, she faintly noted with a slow close of her eyes.

In the recesses of her mind, she could envision them—herself, Roxas, her aunt, her mom and dad, and Roxas's dad—sitting at the table on a Thursday night, mingling with each other like any other normal family during dinner time, when the phone rang. Kairi had modestly excused herself, scrapping the chair legs as she made a bee-line towards the telephone attached to the nearest wall.

Pressing the phone against her ear, she had settled into her talking-mode, anticipating a cheerful voice of boyish timbre—had felt distantly guilty for even doing so.

What she had gotten instead was a frenzied voice, staccato in quality.

She remembered the hurried voice on the other line, remembered the awful sound of her heart sinking and breaking right then and there. Clutching the phone so tight her knuckles protruded white against her fair skin, the girl had choked her tears back as the news sunk in.

Had felt the endless stares silently asking what was up. Once the phone conversation ceased, she had cradled the phone back in its place, and slowly faced her family. The tears had fallen freely by then, drenching her face in gushing pools. Mouth trembling, she had told them.

Told them that Naminé had taken her own life last night, this afternoon confirmed dead.

Her whole family had immediately stopped eating: Her aunt swallowed with difficulty, her uncle—Roxas's dad—clenching his jaw, the muscles underneath tightened in a knot, her parents looking at their daughter then at their plates repeatedly, as if frantically searching for unspoken answers between intervals, and Roxas looking utterly devastated, big blue eyes wide and filled with more emotion than she had ever witnessed.

A beat had passed. The clatter of silverware hitting the floor as Roxas rushed out of the room had been deafening.

Kairi opened her eyes from the blurry recall, and wished to crawl under a rock.

They stayed that way, the silence vociferous and almost choked the two; then it elapsed with a dismissive wave from Roxas, his shoulders hunched as he ambled away from the kitchen.

A defense mechanism could be sighted immediately, but neither of them had the heart to admit it was _there_.

The girl watched that small back disappear behind the corner, feeling her heart drop and her eyes prickly to the edges.

She should have known better than to provoke him. Roxas had demons still clutching on to him desperately, clawing through to escape the confines of his consciousness. Sometimes, she saw flashes of it actually happening, such as when Roxas interacted with Riku, or when Roxas nearly jumped at any sighting of people with bright red hair and facial tattoos.

The other day he had exploded in front of her aunt before realizing he had even opened his mouth. His crestfallen face afterwards had been the most disenchanted sight she had ever seen

Her itchy eyes swiveled to the book in her hands, a helpful textbook which did nothing for her, or the loved ones around her; to reprimand it for its incompetence, she sauntered over to the trash bin, idly sitting by the door leading to the backyard, stomped on the pedal, and violently dropped it in.

-

"I cannot believe you are calling me. At this hour."

"Well, I couldn't quite help it…"

"Bastard."

"I do try, though."

"…Do I even want to know?"

"You may… And you may not. It's your call."

"No, it's _your_ call. What do you need?"

"—Do you have any records of a Naminé Peterson?"

-

"_Naminé, _please_…"_

"'_Please' what, Kairi? What do you want? What do you want to say to me? What— Just. Kai, I—"_

"…_Yeah?"_

"…I'm fucking scared…"

-

Her ceiling had history. Its fan had witnessed some things that it probably wished it hadn't—like a projectile bra or other undergarments because, seriously, Kairi was definitely a healthy teen with hormones and urges and what not—and the cracks had some tales to tell as well—like that one time where Sora had jumped a little too high for anyone's comfort, and his crown and ceiling had a bitter interaction, one where Naminé couldn't help but laugh at each passing mention of the incident.

Kairi turned over with a wistful smile. The motion crinkled her round face, disturbing the dry tear tracks that bit into her ego and ruined the thin layer of eyeliner she put on that morning. With her cheek pressed against the pillow, she sighed, spiritually searching throughout herself for any little detail that could bring out some sort of epiphany that she needed to answer all the bewildering questions swirling in her head.

But she knew before it completely processed in her fully functioning mind that she wouldn't find very healthy answers if she continued this path of self-pity. Besides, she thought cynically, she didn't deserve an ounce of any kind of pity.

She was the neglectful friend who brushed another's problem away with no qualms until it was too late.

Instinctively her eyes, welled with unshed tears, roved over to the picture board she created one bored summer, tacked together unceremoniously, but with an air of care similar to an artist with a palette of multiple pictures, depicting a clichéd story of lifetime-lasting friendships. It was a collage of every memory the wholesome girl treasured from the bottom of her heart.

_Where did all those moments go to, anyway?_ The thought incessantly festered inside her mind.

Particular images stayed burned behind her eyelids even after tearing her reflective stare from them—a Kodak moment of two girls, different as night and day; however, shining in brilliant youth and girl power, holding each other, cheeks and smiles close together, eyes practically inverted crescents. One of three silhouettes before an orange sunset, linked together by something that was only present at the setting of the picture, and could be felt by anyone who looked at it far more than a cursory glance. There was one of a cheery brunette boy showing his teeth for the first time in two and a half years, free of braces. Another was of an unsuspecting girl, golden hair blowing in the unrelenting wind of autumn, hand obscuring most of the photo, yet did not hide the shine in ocean-like eyes. And the last was of the eighth grade dance, where the lighting was minimum; nonetheless, did not dim out the excited looks of two people lost in each other's eyes, and a group of teens with matching grins in front of Radiant High, dated over a year ago.

Below it stood her study desk, buried with papers and textbooks, and on the corner her cell phone lay innocently. It seemed to call her. And though she had the afternoon still etched in memory (it wasn't a Wednesday afternoon she would like to recall, but it was important) and from the looks of outside, it was pretty darn late and no human—no less a normal teenager—should really be mingling out there in the pitch dark, she couldn't stop from reaching the phone.

The flitting image of brown hair and blue eyes, jubilant and all, from the recesses of her mind was the last push she needed.

She dialed a phone number she thought she would never have to call.

-

"…_What are you scared of?"_

"…_Kairi?"_

"…_Naminé…"_

"_It's too late."_

-

"Okay, Riku, be a little more rational. Don't do anything that'll land you in juvie…a_gain_… But that _son of a bitch_ has got it coming… Messing with fucking minors—what the hell was he thinking taking him to a college party—and, shit, it's fucking _spring break_ for these dumbfucks—that bitch is dead, I swear to God a bitch is dropping _dead _tonight…"

As his knuckles turned white from the tense grip his hands had on the abused steering wheel, Riku prayed to some higher being a thank-you for having his car back after being in the shop for the past several months. It was all thanks to a mother who refused to pay for the damages she caused and a greedy bastard of a mechanic, who happened to be an associate of Riku's.

Before pursuing another friend after that phone conversation, Riku had made a mad-dash into his room to change,—having semen-crusted jeans was not something Riku found comfortable or cool—slipped into a clean pair, a black polo, and swung his thrift shop zip-up hoodie on his person.

Throughout that process, in the back of his mind, he had wished damn hard for some hardcore shit to seep into his bloodstream, numbing everything.

Then again, he had shaken his head at the thought. As hard as cold turkey was, he had to stay clean.

Because once he was, the past would no longer haunt him.

The nightly activities that breathed down the streets Riku drove past filtered many colors across his pale, anxious features. The rest of the drive was a haze; Riku only remembered counting down silently to himself at stoplights and, at everything else between, conjuring about twenty-one scenarios of Axel's imminent death.

"When I get my damn hands on him, he's getting fucking _skewered_…"

If he had a lesser mentality capacity beyond the homicidal tendencies, he would have swerved right into a fire hydrate at the notion of his cell phone vibrating against his thigh. He would; however, deny that he screamed like a bitch when it went off.

Without taking his eyes off the road—though almost missing the turn, fuck—he reached into his pocket, scarcely noticed how low the battery was, jammed his finger against the talk button, and slammed the receiver against his ear.

"'Ello?"

"Riku."

The male blinked for a moment. Twice before realizing to match a face to the voice. Red hair, cute face, petite, and on the short side… _Kairi_. He cursed under his breath, half-relief and half-pissed. He could vividly remember the afternoon, her teary eyes and gut-wrenching words that invoked emotions Riku did not want to show.

"What do you want?" Riku cradled the phone on his shoulder in order to maneuver a complete turn with both hands, a scowl directed at the neighborhood and indirectly directed at the other person on the other line.

"You're such a—" but then it ended with a sigh before actually saying something, and Kairi concluded, "Forget it. It's not even worth it."

Riku could hear the roll of her eyes.

"Well, this conversation is about to not be worth staying on, so," Riku suggested, scowl still present both on face and in tone, "either tell me something important, or I'm hanging up."

He remembered vaguely of her appalled expression as he impaled a door window with his fist. Remembered that half a year ago, they were okay-friends. Until Sora's suicidal tendencies screwed everyone and their mother.

Kairi made a mockingly cooing sound in his ear, and he may as well have hung up then and there. "Look, I just wanted to talk for a moment."

"I'm all ears." Sarcastic and all.

So Riku may or may not have been channeling his anger at her—but he had a damn good reason.

"I'm serious! I want you to really listen to me for just a minute."

"And I'm listening, damn it."

She took a breath, maybe longer than needed, probably building up courage like the last time this happened—and hell, that felt like decades ago. By the time anything came out of her mouth, Riku had already reached his destination, parked to the side and got out of his car with a slam of its door. "I think you should talk to Sora. Like, as friends."

He momentarily froze right after, hand halted from moving away from the top of the car door, body paralyzed, despite possible overexposure of the spring night chill. His breath came out in short-lived puffs of hot air, retreating wisps only to be replaced with another. An awkward silence fell. His heart was, oddly enough, hammering double time and almost suffered sudden cardiac arrest after it burst through his ribcage. His palm was becoming clammy from the sweat collecting around the hand that held his cell to his ear.

"Riku, are you there? …Hello? Riku?"

The cumbersome memories that had gone forgotten since now came all toppling down back to his shoulders, automatically rendering them practically useless whilst his breathing decelerated immensely.

"_WHAT ABOUT HIM?!"_

Riku closed his eyes.

Several scenarios rushed through his head, like a marathon unfolding behind his eyelids, of shifting images sharing the same subject of interest—bright ocean eyes that cried from within, a smile long disappeared, and a vibrancy that ebbed away into roughly nothing.

Only when a holler coming from the house's general direction reached his ears did Riku come out of his stupor. "_Riku_? Oh my god, _dude_, it's you!"

In a start—his fingers abruptly, clumsily, grasped his phone to prevent a fall—his eyes tilted upwards and returned a greet-wave halfheartedly.

The guy gave him a cheeky grin, all white teeth and bronze skin, and the familiar stench of alcohol filled Riku's nostrils.

"Kairi," he finally spoke to the mouthpiece, "what the hell are you talking about?"

Quickly and without further ado (in signs of more familiar faces wanting to garner some sort of reaction to Riku's return and multiple offers of crystal pinky), Riku entered the limb-tangled crowds, half disgusted, half pleased, and half longing to be part of an old scene that should have been dead. Bodies were pressed together, glued by sweat and other bodily fluids, but Riku didn't pay much heed as Kairi justified her proposal.

"Look, I know you're not the friendly type—" Riku mentally scoffed, since it was all true and rather ironic to say under these conditions. "And, from your reaction this afternoon, you could care less of any other human being on this planet.

"Buuuuut," she pressed; Riku could hear her chewing on her lip through the phone line. "I feel like you're the only one that… You're really the only one out of all the people who truly care about him that he'll listen to."

Another silence overtook the static between the two; Riku stopped pushing people out of his way for a split second sooner than composing himself.

"Why tell me this now?" Riku asked rather quietly, wondering if Kairi heard him over the blaring music and screams from his side. Meticulously, yet losing patience all the same, the white haired teen budged a finicky group of college students, eyes roaming frantically to spot a familiar redhead in the chaos.

Really, that was the million dollar question tonight. Why _did_ Kairi ask now? Why does she always insist that Riku knows the answers? Does she know about his past—is that why? Does she know that Riku could relate—if he wanted to sink that low—to Sora, and _that_ in of itself could help the poor boy from his depression?

However, her attempts to have Riku involved usually led to horrible outcomes in his expense.

And instead of seeking out either Roxas, (Riku subconsciously sneered) or another of her sophomore lackeys, she always came to _him_.

_Oh god_, Riku spontaneously realized. What if she _liked_ Riku?! For a moment, the idea sickened and bemused him, but he knew it wasn't as elementary as that.

It was far more complicated.

After a good minute, a blood vessel throbbed against his temple; he pinched his nose gingerly. He was still unwillingly listening to what seemed to be a crying Kairi.

"—_I'm so sorry,_ R-R-Riku. It seems like every time I try to ask s-s-some-something of you, it just backfires right in our faces. I'm s-s-so sorry that I made you punch your hand…_your hand_ through that window—I shouldn't have provoked you—I feel bad because I c-cornered you like that.

"B-but… B-but, I don't even know what to do anymore… It may not seem like we're trying, but damn it, we're _trying so hard_. Sora, my best friend, refuses help of any kind—he won't even acknowledge us when we bump into each other. Only stares us—" Riku heard the unspoken _me_—"down like we betrayed him, and I can see where he's coming from. After all, we barely came to his side when he desperately needed it, but since he didn't ask for it, we ignored everything. _We just ignored everything_, and look where it got us. Where it got _him_."

Suddenly, Riku noticed a figure—Leather jacket, check. Cancer stick, check. Wild red hair, CHECK—standing next to a hammock behind a pair of sliding-glass doors, and panicked to a degree that he barely heard Kairi's next words.

"I am _so_ sick of seeing my best friend suffer because he has this stupid, totally stubborn belief that he has to shoulder a friend's death—a suicide he unfortunately had to witness firsthand—and it just hurts, Riku. It hurts so much. I'm scared this will kill him, and none of us can convince him that it is _not_ his fault.

"Except you," For a third time, Riku had to stop in order to fully comprehend the girl's sudden proclamations. "You're the biggest asshole I've ever met," and before Riku could retaliate, she continued briskly with, "but once you bypass those stupid walls you put up to hide an inferiority complex the size of this town and beyond, you actually have a compassionate side that empathizes Sora and reaches out to him, with or without you knowing it."

The junior heard the beep of his cell phone, signaling the conversation's approaching end.

"Just, Riku. Just try to talk to him. Please. It may not mean much to you, but in time… something will make Sora realize that there are people who really care about him, as a person and as a friend, and—"

"—Kairi," Riku hastily interjected, and closed his eyes for a millisecond. "I appreciate that you think I'm actually _the one_ to help Sora out, but, seriously? I'm no saint."

From the position of directly facing the glass doors he clearly saw his reflection and the lights illuminating from the room, saw the guilt that he had masked nearly most of his life, saw the repressed anger that broke boundaries if necessary, saw an extremely weak emotion he rarely let himself take pleasure in or pursue.

He unclenched his injured hand without breaking eye contact. "I—I've done some shit in my life," he muttered. "Some really bad shit that I'm not very proud of, but I did them, and…" He braced himself against the door, grasping the handle in a rigid hold. Exhaled through his nose, "…and I have to fix myself before I can fix someone else, let alone Sor—" And with that his phone died right then and there. He removed the cell from his ear and stuffed it in his pocket. Good, he thought in the back of his mind.

Riku did not need to deal with weeping girls when he confronted one Axel Haycraft.

-

_I wonder if I did the right thing, if I pushed the right person into doing this, because I know I'm running out of options, and time is running out, too. _

_I want to believe, I want to hope, I want to pray to a God that allowed my friend to kill herself, and a God who's allowing my friend to die away. _

_I want to put my trust in a cold-hearted bastard to see past himself to help my dying friend before it's too late. _

_Is that too much to ask?_

_Naminé, am I asking for too much? _

_-_

_I'm going to kill Axel._

The thought flittered briefly in the front of Sora's mind, tagging along with the migraine slowly swirling inside, as the voice of euphoria rose in volume from the aftereffects of the several crystal pinkies sloshing in the bottom of his stomach. He swayed into a different room, head spinning, and idly fingered the scarf hanging from his neck.

_Can I at least keep his scarf if I'm going to kill him? _

And it was a really nice scarf. The sort of material he would love to nuzzle his cheek against, soft—like Naminé's sheets…

Then the euphoria deflated and died down to a simmer at the unexpected recollection. He suddenly became cross at the memory, distantly aware of its jagged ends as it passed through his body.

…She had smiled at him, mussing his hair with a small hand, her touch gentle, tranquilly resting her chin upon his shoulder. Light blue eyes had shimmered under the reflection of the withdrawing afternoon sun filtering through the bedroom curtains. A calm, autumnal breeze had caressed the fabric and tickled his cheek as he had grinned from ear to ear as they quietly spoke of the past weekend…

Sora vaguely remembered how those memories tore at him, and made him fucking mental. Made him close off from the world. Made people he didn't want to come near him talk about him, approach him like they knew everything. Made his parents wary of him. Made him have a crazy lunatic of a therapist who may or may not be attractive. Made him land himself in hospitals after downing half a bottle of painkillers.

(Bodies began moving again as the next song played, invigorating a tremble of existence and bliss into the hearts of all, hands thrown carelessly in the air, shouts ripped from parched tongues.)

In the depths of his mind, he didn't want to care, so he grabbed another proffered cup of crystal pinky and drank beyond one's heart's content. While he incessantly attempted to resurrect the budding euphoria, and ignored the scorching sensation the alcohol left on his esophagus, Sora welcomed anything from the lively party, sporting a lopsided smile. Elation sang in his veins.

(The stereos blaring, the masses colliding, the blinking lights mixing into colorful ecstasy, beaming swirls of oranges, pinks, and yellows and enveloping in growing obsidians and blues with a scatter of twinkling whites shattering behind Sora's sockets. Amidst the smeared blacks and whites, bright lights dusted, complementing and embellishing the room.)

He wanted to escape; he knew that, grabbing a lone hand in his, body flush against a faceless, nameless individual. He also knew that escaping meant drinking more, and drinking more probably made him lose all inhibition, just as he had always heard about when it came to the subject of underage drinking, but he didn't care. Caring made him tense, rigid, worrying about everything when all he had to do was let go.

(Another body pressed against his back, and Sora leaned into the fast touch. His thoughts lingered on staying here for eternity, away from a broken home, away from a broken life, away from a grave that he refused to look at no matter what.)

"TURN OFF ALL THE LIGHTS!" Someone had shouted; in seconds, all was pitch dark. It took awhile for his vision to adjust to the lack of illumination, and he joined in the screaming of jubilation at the turn of events, albeit hesitantly. He tried denying the way his fingers convulsed uncontrollably in the dark.

…A flash of discarded white pills next to stilled, curled fingers, small against the backdrop of white, and golden tresses encircling the bloodied hand resting serenely on the floor… next to a cold… body…

Letting go had to have been the hardest part.

For a moment, he couldn't breathe. It was stuck in his throat, something lodged there, rendered him mute and immobile. His heart palpitated roughly against his chest, banging between the bones of his rib cage. It was painful. It was awful. It was an agonizing, tedious process he had resigned to himself.

It was as though something dark, sinister, and malevolent erupted into life in Sora's head, clawing at his brains. Wrestling to get through the chaotic confines it inhabited, at the presence of the darkness, it shrieked, a bloodcurdling voice of gloom and depression demanding for release.

…_I'm not like you… I can never be like you… I can't be happy… I'm not like you… Sora… I… can't… pretend… all the … time…_

Heart heavy as lead, he squeezed his eyes shut against the oppressive apparition of that night a year ago. Sora clutched the sides of his head with unyielding, trembling hands, hoping to halt the pounding and the pulsating monster roaring for freedom. To no avail, the cries never ceased to leave him petrified.

Desperately, he slashed through the blackness, fingers blindly grasping in the dark. His eyes watered from the escalating fear building inside, colors blurry, and abruptly his hands found purchase.

Unfortunately, his actions were not taken into good light. And, mid-drunken-stammered apology, Sora heard the sound of a fist slamming against his cheek as though from a great distance.

-

"Roxas?"

A room was cast into darkness; the light coming from the hallway emphasized the lack of life inside. The light illuminated shapes and forms indicating posters stacked on one side of the wall; a study desk sitting in a corner, school materials sparsely distributed on the plastic desktop next to a laptop, its screen glowing eerily in the shadows; a bed directly adjacent to the wall, and a lump resting atop the mattress, lethargic in movement.

It only shifted when a voice piped through the opened door.

The blond turned over from his position on the bed, eyeing his stepmom warily as she stepped inside his room. Letting out a sigh, she ran a hand through her red hair—and Roxas knew instantly she was stressed out with his current sulking.

"I would let you wallow in your teen angst," she muttered, plopping down onto the mattress. It creaked slightly, the sound piercing through her pause. "But I won't." There was a smile added a at the end.

Roxas looked at her, head still against his pillow, and shook his head. "I'm not wallowing," he retorted, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm just thinking."

"With the lights shut off?"

He merely shrugged an answer.

Instead of showing her disapproval for his lacking articulation, her eyes softened, and Roxas—ashamed to admit it—compared the green-flecked-with-brown eyes to catlike ones from a distant summer of teen partying, flings, and a whole lot of problems.

He frowned into his pillow.

Her prolonged silence made the fifteen year old guiltier by the minute, causing him to avert his entire body from her in order to hide it. She'd ask questions regardless if he was facing her.

Without breaking contact with his bedroom wall, he heard his stepmom shift to lean in, placing a small peck on his cheek, as she wrapped an arm around his hunched form; she ignored how he flinched in the embrace. He heard her sigh against the back of his head. "What are you thinking about?" she whispered against his hair.

Fighting the urge to cry, Roxas clamped his eyes shut before opening them. "Just." Long pause. "Just stuff, in general… I guess."

The arm around him tightened. "Baby, what's wrong?" She too paused and sucked in a small amount of air in realization. "Oh, baby. You still thinking about a year ago?"

"No." He said it faster than he would have liked. "I mean… not really." Fingers that were idly pressed against the covers were now curled into a fist.

"What do you mean, 'not really'?"

Again the urge hit him full-blown in the pit of his stomach; he wanted the receding pain to stop. "I don't know, Rose, okay?"

If she had noticed the sudden snap in his tone, Rose did not admonish him for it, nor did she acknowledge it by any means.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me." Her voice suggested she was smiling faintly in the darkness. "It's okay, Rox."

"Please don't call me that."

Silence.

The almost inaudible request created a tension so thick it felt like crashing waves coming from all sides, the salt rubbing abrasively against unseen wounds that made regret seem unbearable.

After another painstakingly minute, Rose began muttering apologies, pressing her warm cheek against his. "_Oh._ I'm so sorry, I should have known better—how could she have let you—I wish you'd tell your father, he'd know what to do—Roxas, its okay. It's really, really okay."

He internally replied to each of her statements, his head so deep into his pillow, his fist so tightened onto his sheets, his mouth bitten so much he wouldn't be surprised if blood spewed out.

Memories wrenched out his heart and twisted and corroded it beyond recognition, and the gashes only gushed out more memories—lazy smiles, sifting smoke, hues of pinks and oranges and reds—_always reds_—soft words, broken promises for a nonexistent forever, remorseless heat waves, smells of fiery cinnamon and the salty ocean, and eyes so green they dragged you into emerald seas.

Only then did Roxas let the dam break, tears cascading down his face in rivulets.

"_I know, Mom. I know you're sorry. No, it's okay. I don't tell you anything because I _can't_. She has nothing and everything to do with my life, so please don't mention her. I can't tell Dad. He wouldn't know what to do. Really. Really, Mom, really. _

"_It's really _not_ okay."_

-

Axel sort of missed his scarf. His upper body shivered inside the depths of his leather jacket as another chilly wind breezed past, and he frowned miserably in the wake of his absent black scarf.

Goddamned midnight runners who mysteriously steal scarves unnoticed until they've disappeared into the night… or into music-vibrating houses.

Axel, cigarette dangling between dry lips, did not immediately acknowledge Riku once he burst through the glass doors and slammed them shut behind him, unhesitant and brash—all in typical Riku-style, and did not do so for longer than needed. Besides, he didn't have to look at him to sense the vehemence radiating from Riku's general direction. He knew that the kid was far from being a pacifist and singing Kumbaya at the top of his lungs (frankly, Axel did _not_ want a repeat of five years ago), and it sort of intrigued him.

Riku, for the longest that Axel has known him, did not react heavily to others; apathetic to a perfect T.

Red eyebrows soared high and a smirk skittered across his face. _Hmm, interesting. Might want to let the paranoid fucker fall for the bait. _

Rising from his perch on the patio chair, he removed the cigarette from his lips with two fingers, taking a drag along the way. It was then tossed to the ground and snuffed out with the heel of his Chucks.

What seemed like a perpetuity, (in Riku's perspective) Axel decisively inclined his head back to stare at the scattered stars dusting the sky, exhaling a trail of smoke towards it, and then green eyes laid their undivided attention on Riku.

That infuriating, all-knowing smirk was still there, but vacillated once Axel registered that Riku, who was only about two feet away from him, was not exactly in the mood for jokes.

It didn't mean he wouldn't poke some fun; he was _so_ not above that.

"Well, geez, Riku. I'd _love _to be of help," Axel began with a roll of his eyes, deepening frown on its way, "but, you see, lemme tell you some things." At this point, he started ticking off a list from his fingers.

"One, I just had to correct a mistake of bringing a little squirt into a pool of hungry college freaks, who, I might add, would have no ounce of dignity to prevent themselves from devouring said squirt with no reluctance whatsoever. Two, I had to be a fucking _ballerina_ in order to do so, because, trust me—I would have done _anything_ to avoid that floor orgy. Three, the squirt started singing Savage, yes, damn you, _Savage_. Y'know that song, 'Swing'? Yeah, that's the one that made my ears suffer and almost fried my brains. Four—yeah, pussy, I'm still going—don't give me that look—I had to carry a drunken squirt, who spat glow sticks at random passersby"—one of Riku's eyebrows skyrocketed a bit too close to his hairline—"back here in seclusion. And oh, last but not least, I GOT BITTEN!"

Here, Riku had to plug an ear with a finger in order to block some of the shriek of that last part of the sentence. Abruptly, Axel thrust his wrist, which displayed deep indentions that appeared to be teeth marks, underneath Riku's nose.

Well, at least Axel didn't mention the trip from Papou Grove to Twilight Avenue via abandoned woods. Another time then.

The white haired teen's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, finger still in his ear. "Are you fucking with me?" he inquired curiously and skeptically.

"Of course not," drawled Axel with a scowl, rolling the sleeve of his jacket down. "No, bitch, I'm fucking serious. Who the hell is the squirt?"

Riku squinted at his ex-best friend, similar to a scientist who just discovered a deadly fungus, observed the kitty beanie sitting haphazardly atop flaming red hair. Commenced to rip the bandages wrapped around his knuckles with his teeth and said through them:

"The better question is: where the hell is the squirt?"

Axel blinked, once, twice, sucked up the air he was breathing, and a cocky and wicked leer graced his features. Said leer instantly turned into a fake, melodramatic, confused frown, lips pursed.

Riku should have seen it coming a mile away.

With a shrug, Axel replied, "_No sé_. Beats me."

And then several things happened all at once.

Discarded bandages descended to the pavement in wisps of white and crusty red; Axel was propelled forward by the jerk of Riku's hold on the collar of his leather jacket; they had a staring-contest that lasted for a second. Riku opened his mouth, probably to say how much of a jackass Axel was, and how much of a pervert he was for bringing a minor into a party filled with college students who wouldn't mind fucking up some random minor. However, in the background, back inside the house, a consecutive series of loud crashes audibly made its existence known; and, with the signal of slamming doors, bodies began to clamber out into the backyard, ignoring the two males in exchange for a fluctuating fight forming in the center. The acrid stench of alcohol filled the air. For that reason alone, Riku's words were put off for a moment.

"I said I was sorry!"

"Fuck you, bitch! You're dead!"

The first punch obviously landed, and an animalistic cry issued into the night. Voyeurs let out a triumphant hoot, wanting _moremoremore_, _FightFightFight!_

Peripherally, Riku caught a glimpse of the brawl: a small statured figure buried inside a black fleece, the hood up, surrounded by what seemed to be older and bigger college students. The one yelling instigation at the person, who had apologized and had begun to bounce on the balls of their feet, continued to taunt, crouched in an intimidating manner. And then proceeded to stumble sideways, probably due to the alcohol content churning in his bloodstream.

Axel made a noise from the back of his throat.

The smaller of the two pairs must have noted the change in mood as well, because he—must have been a he since guys didn't normally rough up girls publicly, Riku reckoned after inclining his head for a better view—shifted his weight down to his knees and ankles, spreading his legs out at an attempt for a fighting stance.

Riku almost laughed at the audacity (or audacities, if someone wanted to be specific—the most striking being the kid's bright yellow shoes) and subsequently bit his bottom lip to stifle it. Not everyone, he reminded himself, knew what the stance was actually supposed to look like.

He figured, watching the hooded figure's back roll in tension, that the kid didn't know any better, probably had accidentally landed himself into a situation that involved way too many beers or crystal pinkies, and one pissed-off college dude. He figured, with the sluggish way the kid was moving, he drank way too much for his small body to handle. He figured, with the way the kid was clenching and unclenching shaky hands, he was scared shitless, but was not going down without a fight.

A wiry smile slipped on Riku's face. The kid would be strong enough to push back.

In a matter of seconds, others distinct from the crowd, came forward—the pissed off college dude's lackeys—and circled the kid. A surge of excitement rippled through the crowd.

Everything slowed down, details decelerating, every sense deteriorating, time disorienting in of its' self.

With an abated breath, the kid sunk down to evade a punch that could have knocked the wind out of him if he hadn't moved. Then there was a small growl, and the one who dealt the first blow doubled over, the kid stalking back, waving one hand out of a fist to only bring it back in.

Swerving their interests away from the ongoing punch-trade to have another staring contest, Axel and Riku barely noticed the whole ordeal, because both of them had their share of witnessing countless party fights in their span of party hosting. Some (granted, most) of those fights usually spawned from stupid reasons—like a girlfriend finding her best friend sucking face with the boyfriend, dudes fighting over the last canteen of beer, people just partying a bit too hard for others and thus receive a fist to the face, et cetera, et cetera.

But when Riku, veering his head around at a noteworthy sound of flesh connecting with flesh, recognized a spiked head of brown hair amidst the scuffle, he knew instantly that he could no longer be a spectator.

The male released his hold on Axel's leather jacket, tied his hair back with the rubber band he kept in his back pocket, bared white teeth, and swiftly tackled a person—a guy he associated with in junior high—before he landed a second punch on Sora.

Green eyes widened, just a fraction, and Axel pulled another cigarette out of the inside of his jacket. He took a mental count of the guys surrounding the kid—five, if you weren't counting the small fry Riku just pinned down properly—and scowled.

"Shit." And he elbowed and kneed his first victim simultaneously, relishing in the sound of cracks and anguished screams.

From his position on the patio pavement, Riku glanced up and saw Sora, still in mid-shock at finding _Riku of all people_ helping him, dodge another swing aimed at him, mouth already bruised and bleeding, face scrunched up in determination. Before Riku could call out the brunet's name as Sora heaved and flung another male over his scrawny shoulders, the guy under him twisted his body as he thrust his palm in Riku's face, pushing him off. In retaliation, Riku stomped on his gut twice and hard, faintly hearing the familiar snap of ribs compressing.

He knew he was already sinking in the adrenalin rush, hand wiping away at the blood and sweat accumulating around his chin, before diverting his attention to the rest of the fight.

Axel had handled down at least two guys, what with their moaning coming from the pavement and the redhead idly spitting out blood, before popping his cigarette back into his mouth in conjunction with ignoring his bleeding nose. As for Sora, he was struggling to get out of a headlock where the bastard held tight to the scarf encircling Sora's neck, and then Sora set dead aim at the perpetrator's nose, knuckles embedded in skin and crimson. Wriggling himself free, Sora knocked down a third person with his shoulder, elbowing him in the stomach to render him unconscious with a grunt. The end of the scarf fluttered beside Sora's shoulder.

Within the chaos, another assailant went straight for Sora's solar plexus, and made Sora's body automatically curl in; Sora groaned and fell onto one knee.

Something spurred from within Riku, who saw through a red tint the guy—the first person to welcome him back—pull out his arm back again for another blow, who heard Axel's shout to stop, who felt the sound of his shoes clopping against the pavement in slow-motion, who heard the air whistle as he brought a leg to meet the jaw of his next victim.

In this environment, the sixteen year old only knew sounds and smells and senses and reactions. Cause and effect. Blood in between his gums and teeth. The shatter of bones and limbs against limbs. Punch. Kick. Elbow in the face and gut. Ears ringing, and lights blaring in front of eye sockets, amongst it all, the horrified and awed expression Sora wore, "RIKU!" and—

"Oh shit! THE COPS!"

It ignited a state of confusion, as bodies crashed into each other in order to get the hell out, limbs brushing past.

Fist still in midair, Riku blinked down at the battered body in his other hand, as if he had no recollection of the ministrations that he made the assailant undergo. He turned, releasing his grip to allow whomever the person he had held to drop face-first into the concrete, noticed Sora's blue eyes between the people dashing out of the house and towards the back fence boring into his nonchalant stare. Some of the entourage already clambered over, landing on the other side to continue escaping.

For a moment, Riku's mind went into a blank, he didn't know what to do. Drowned in memories of flashing lights, broken bones, shattered innocence, pungent smells and tastes—copper, iron, sweat, and salt—shrieks, and loud bangs. Once he confirmed that no, he wasn't on the islands anymore, but in the middle of Axel's friend's backyard with numerous people frantically running, and Sora favoring his left side, sirens blaring in the background, Riku hoisted himself to Sora's arm, pulled by the hand, and ran as fast as possible. He heard Sora sputter a response to the sudden situation, but felt the smaller boy tottering after him.

He felt the way Sora's hand fit rather nicely inside his. Sans much thought, he rubbed his thumb against the soft skin—a sign of assurance.

Riku didn't turn to look back, not even a glance over his shoulders. If he had, he would have probably stopped dead in his tracks, widened his eyes, opened his mouth without saying anything, and noticed the first _real _dazzling smile from Sora he had ever witnessed.

When they arrived at the next obstacle—the fence—Sora, without retort, allowed himself to be lifted over it, wincing at the pressure his stomach had to experience due to the motion. Riku winced in opposition to his actions, but pushed supplementary judgment aside as he climbed himself over, watching the red and blue lights litter the sides of the house and forms make their way into the building to find any stranglers.

Not so charmingly landing on their butts, Riku promptly began to heft himself up first, providing a hand to help Sora up, eyebrows knotting together at the sight of the wobbly brunette boy huddling into his body, hand constantly at the stomach.

"C'mon," the older male coaxed, calmly observing the proximity between them. From where he was positioned, the tips of Sora's chocolate spikes tickled his jaw line. Smelled the scent of grass, crystal pinky, rough-and-tumble, and all boy—sweat, adrenalin, blood, and happy-go-lucky—lingering there.

Riku met blue eyes, and saw the schooled expression of reserve—really, Riku was getting sick of seeing it now—hiding, _again_, the lurking fear behind them.

There was a brief instant of hesitation, as Sora remained half-leaning onto Riku's right side, left hand embracing Riku's own right hand, his fingertips curling onto the surface of scarred skin covering tense knuckles and muscle, although not taking more notice of it than he would have in more normal conditions. Their eyes never lost contact, yet when Sora's chapped lips parted to speak, the tranquility vanished instantly, exposing the reality cornering them.

"Why are you helping me?"

Riku snapped out of his daze momentarily; flashes of that day in the library, the running, the boy breaking down without much preamble, the kiss—god, he wanted to relive it, and all he had to do was just lean in—had fleeted through his head, gone as fast as they came. Subsequently Riku used one hand to straighten the scarf around Sora's neck and the other gave Sora's hand a gentle squeeze, a small smile of encouragement curving Riku's lips.

He heard more than felt the brunet shiver beside him.

Refusing to respond, the white haired male instead gazed down at their intertwined hands, changing his hold around the brunet's to attain a better one. Looked up, first saw brown then, again, blue of the deepest kind, the sounds of the islands' roaring seas flittering between his ears.

Flashlights suddenly blinked overhead; the two teenage boys jumped, laughing nervously under their breaths at how easily they had forgotten that _the police_ were still in the vicinity. The pair hunkered down low, hand-in-hand, and quickly trekked across empty lawns before arriving on sidewalks and streets. Riku was the first to notice that Axel was definitely missing, what with the lack of big mouthed redheads who had no manners about secondhand smoking.

Before Sora could provide an inquiry about it, a blaze of yellow surged from around the corner, speeding dangerously down the street, and made an abrupt screeching stop in front of the two awe-horrified boys.

However, on further inspection, Riku almost let go of Sora's hand in exchange for going down on his knees and raising his arms up, all the while yelling "Hallelujah" towards the heavens.

Sitting leisurely in the driver's seat, yet glass-bottle-green eyes showing an entirely different attitude of their own, Axel, roughly finished cigarette at a slant between his lips, tilted forward into the passenger's side—the side closest to the sidewalk—and barked orders out its open window.

"Get in!" A wad of tissue was up Axel's nose, muffling the command. Riku was going to sputter out a chuckle, but heard approaching voices coming from the rear and sensed Sora curling into his shoulder, all tense at the way the pieces of this strange predicament were falling. He opened the back car door, posturing to board inside.

_However_, Riku's thoughts sidetracked into an unrelated subject less important at the time.

"Are you driving my car?!"

"Just get the FUCK IN!" Axel persisted, panicky even with clutching the steering wheel analogous to a lost man at sea with his lifejacket.

Still, Riku posed in front of the opened door, face harboring a promise to his supposed-savior of castration if he, in spite of everything,continued to think _he_ was the designated driver. His jade eyes narrowed as he watched Axel use one flailing arm to gesture the two boys who had just escaped from policemen on a party bust standing on the sidewalk to get. The. Fuck. In.

"But that's _my_ car! _You_ are driving _my_ c—!"

With a grin breaking through his scowl of impatience and a pleased, very _loud_, "GET IN THE FRIGGIN' CAR," Sora pushed the six foot one inside, forcing the tall teen to clamber awkwardly onto the backseat, and floundered inside, shutting the door behind him.

Axel put the car in accelerate, ignoring twin indignant yelps emitting from the back; concurrently, men in uniform came rushing out in the wake of the car's exhaust smoke as Riku's car zipped past them.

Their shouting increased at the sight of Axel's gift of the bird.

In a matter of minutes, the car broke into the hustle of night traffic, burning less asphalt when it arrived on the main roads. All three of them released one huge sigh.

Each of them was in a varying state of disorder.

Axel appeared to be paying more mind to his driving than to the hole on the bottom hem of the ripped-far-more-than-he-would've-liked band t-shirt he idly fingered, or the scab sprawled amidst the strings of denim from his ripped jeans gracing his knee, some new holes having been acquired from exchanging blows. Every time his foot pressed on the accelerator or tilted back to reach the brakes, a prominent grimace darkened Axel's face and he bit viciously into his cigarette. Smoke idly continued to burn from its end.

Dejectedly staring at his knees was Riku, chin down to his collar, bangs haphazardly falling out of the ponytail resting in a sweaty clump against the nape of his neck. Sported dried blood trailing from a corner of his mouth; a lazy tongue peeked out from the mouth and swiped at it as Riku tangled his arms together, supporting the crossed appendages on his torso. Once comfortable, he reclined the right side of his head onto the window, the glass cold to the touch, eyes peering out to the nightlife of the suburbs.

Limping from exhaustion and wishing for a more peaceful setting—like his bedroom—Sora lounged far into the leather interior while he glanced at the opened window forlornly, half in deep contemplation and half in relaxation as the previous events replayed in the forefront of his mind. The streetlights illuminated streaks of white upon his eyes, the glare leaving blinking sensations inside his pupils. A cool draft whipped through his hair. He buried his chin further into Axel's (stolen) scarf, black fabric tickling his skin. Twice he sighed, throwing his chin against bruised knuckles and laying it atop them, cringing slightly at the activity.

Maybe he really shouldn't have fought the guy. Or _maybe_, he thought, eyebrows scrunched in annoyance, the guy shouldn't have reacted so violently. They had been drunk, they should have been having fun, but then… Sora quickly shook his head, unruly mane fluttering in the night zephyr.

The whole thing was stupid. Sora was stupid enough to even get into that kind of trouble; granted the party fight wasn't his first brawl, but the guy had been about twice his size. Assessing such facts now, Sora felt sick to his stomach.

If Riku and Axel (even though it was Axel's fault for bringing him there—but not his fault of Sora drinking illegally, quipped a small, nagging voice in the back of the boy's mind) hadn't been there, Sora would have probably been beaten to a bloody pulp. He was confident to admit that he could handle the situation if circumstances had played out differently. Nevertheless, he was confident to admit without the other two…

Sora discreetly stole a glance at Riku's taut stance.

From where he sat, he noticed how the road lights reflected upon the paleness of the older male's skin, deepening shadows of risen skin and bone structures. He noticed the way, between intervals of minutes, Riku tensed his shoulders, clenching and unclenching the muscles there, as he continued to reallocate against the car door. He noticed Riku's lips moving back and forth, pursing in on themselves and then drawing close together in a stiff line. He noticed, in several occasions before, but only then briefly noting it, the rise and fall of the tight pulse of Riku's smooth neck, small strands of white hair hiding the unremitting movement. He noticed the blood clot around the edge of Riku's mouth, where some specks of darkened red creased with each rigid shift of his jaw.

There was a time, before his friends had drifted away and his parents became estranged and overbearing all at once, before the days never felt endless or nerve-racking as a day became two, two became a week, and a week slowly transgressed into a month of worrying and misery seeking for company, that Sora considered befriending Riku, maybe even pursuing for more than just a friendship. But the lingering guilt of a recent breakup may have led him to think otherwise.

His diffidence only increased as his mind racked many a scenario of how he should approach the junior, and after spilling his milk over Riku's jeans (He almost thought of apologizing right then and there.) he believed that nothing could incur from it. He let out a frustrated sigh.

Jade eyes darted to the left, and landed on Sora. The brunet felt like a deer caught in headlights, motionless and frozen, stiff as ice. Slightly embarrassed caught staring, the brunet quickly averted his eyes away, breathing overwrought in excitement and mortification. Blue eyes continued to glare at curled fists resting on jean-clad knees, peripherally noting the other's permanent stare.

Again the proximity suffocated Sora. There only lay half a foot between them. He gulped. Riku watched his neck.

The prolonged silence was deafening for the most part.

The first effort towards a normal conversation; surprisingly, stimulated from Riku.

"I thought your driver's license was suspended."

"It _was_ suspended." Despite his back facing them, both Sora and Riku could detect the obvious irritation lacing in Axel's tone. They faintly noted the whites of Axel's knuckles, his hands clutching onto the steering wheel desperately. "Until last week." Here, the hands slackened and eased conspicuously.

Riku gave the driver seat a speculative stare. "Auron gave the okay?"

"Auron?" One of Sora's eyebrows arched smoothly, a frown gracing his lips, and inquisitiveness was evident across his features.

"He's douchebag-over-there's probation officer," answered Riku nonchalantly, shrugging at the expression he was receiving from the boy next to him. An air of conspiracy surrounded the smirk plastering on Riku's face shortly afterwards. "And my speed-dial number two."

Sora squinted his eyes in incredulity. "…Right."

Rolling his eyes, Axel puffed out a taxing breath of air. "Whatever, anyways, I got my license back—"

"Why'd you get it taken in the first place?" interjected Sora, voice hinting curiosity. The boy leaned forward towards the driver seat and rested his chin against the shoulder of it. Unbeknownst to him, Riku's eye twitched perceptibly.

"Drag racing. Old habit of mine." Axel patiently controlled the car to stop at an intersection, checking both ways before heading straight ahead. "Anyways, got it back, but since my last car was towed—already badly crashed and everything—remember, Riku?—I couldn't really drive around happily, so I decided to haul my bored self to the suburban area, where my little friend over here was living." (Riku snorted from his corner.) "Unfortunately, I had to endure the awful smell of old food and old people on your raggedy-ass train, accidentally tripped over a midget while attempting to figure out the bus routes, and landed myself in the wrong neighborhood, where I later encountered the strangest kid I have ever met." Axel gave a sideways glance, a small smirk adorning his mouth. "I shit you not."

Subconsciously, Sora mirrored the smile back to the redhead; at the sight, Riku's eyes narrowed, thin white eyebrows burrowed. Jealousy surged through him, and the teen hated to mentally admit it.

He knew he shouldn't feel this way for the kid, not because of some stupid sense of insecurity over sexual orientation, (Riku wasn't a fucked up thirteen year old anymore, and never really had the time then to divulge in any sort of contemplation of the subject) but because the kid was too screwed up in the head.

Suicidal, wild, brash, unrelenting and boundless with energy. Chaotic and in mourning for a friend who selfishly took her own life without much consent or worry about the loved ones who had been so greatly affected by her actions. And so fucking unattainable it hurt.

Riku bit his lip. Hard. He would never have him. Two broken pieces from different origins could never become whole with one another.

Even if they've kissed. Even if Riku chased him down. Even if Riku had just rescued him from rampaging college students. Even if they've held hands. Even if Sora's friend believed he could chase the boy's demons away. Even if Riku has already said his piece and told him how pathetic he turned out to be. Even if Sora's self-pitying pissed the hell out of him.

Because they can't change the very fact that Sora—suicidal bundle of once-sunshine-cum-teenage-angst-of-the-worst-kind—affected him far more than he would have liked, or allowed in normal conditions, and there was nothing Riku could do about it.

Besides, Riku bitterly thought, observing Sora, who chuckled at something Axel had said from the background, his heart belonged to someone else.

That didn't stop the unbidden scenes—cloudless, blue eyes, brown spikes, golden skin, a shimmering smile with a brilliance that rivaled with the sun's—of what he masturbated to earlier in the night from lingering at the ends of his consciousness. Another twitch from his eye appeared. He would rather throw himself out of the car than have Axel crane his head back to see Riku experiencing a (mind blowing) erection that would only tighten his pants and thin out self-control if Riku left it unattended.

In an instant he conjured an image of his English teacher naked; a few apprehensive seconds later, his erection receded, and the coiling white pulse in the pit of his abdomen disappeared. _Thank you God for ugly teachers._

Derisively, Riku snorted; Sora inclined his head at the sound, and a peculiar expression overtook his features as Riku's face contorted in frustration. Frustrated at what, the former wanted to know.

He heard Axel give out a low whistle.

"Riku, you sure look tense…" Axel asserted suggestively. "You need a chill pill?"

"Fuck you."

"Aw, you're so cute." Axel turned to Sora. "Don't you think Riku's cute, Sora?" As if in afterthought, his eyebrows rose up in question.

Sora stopped himself from answering, mentally hampering a blush from manifesting on his warm cheeks.

Conversely, something more important still nagged inside the boy, gnawing impatiently for answers.

"You never answered my question." Sora pointed a look at Riku, leaning back into his seat. Bright green eyes followed the movement. "Why did you guys help me?"

The other occupants went dead-silent. Judging by the expressions on their faces—and the way Riku immediately averted his attentions to the night sky, they were cautious to disclose any information. Axel coughed. Had Sora been stupid to actually take these two seriously?

Subsequently, Riku shrugged, his eyes fixed out the window before wheeling around to give a frown at Sora's jutting pout.

Sora could have sworn Riku's face had somewhat reddened, but the color vanished from the fair cheekbones once he blinked. Riku's eyes never left Sora's face, but quickly avoided anymore eye contact after a moment or two.

Sora stared at his turned head.

"Well," he pressed with a hint of exasperation lacing the word. "What's your reason?" He blinked up at the driver's seat. "Why did you help me?"

Devoid of further argument, not including the way Axel theatrically waggled his eyes from the rearview mirror and Riku not questioning the look (albeit the strange tick in one eye), Axel piped in ahead of Riku opening his mouth.

"Well…" Axel drawled playfully. "We would have intervened a little sooner, but little Ree over here was too busy ogling at your a—OW!" He turned in the driver's seat and pointed an accusing glare at Riku. "Do NOT kick the driver's seat or I'll rip your legs out. Got it memorized?" Without receiving a reply, Axel offered his attentions back on the roads, nearly running past a stop sign.

Riku settled back into the seat, wearing a triumphant smirk.

Sora's mouth formed a silent 'O', still not understanding, but decided against prying by the way Riku's eyes failed to relax from the hardcore glare-state it was in. As if noticing the brunet's scrutiny, Riku glanced sideways.

By a single fleeting look taking in Sora's appearance—unkempt hair that stood in all angles, the bruise on the side of his mouth, the fleck of purple and yellow dusted across his right cheek, the grass stain on his forehead—Riku's entire demeanor changed. He unhooked his arms from each other, back not as ramrod straight in the backseat, faintly slouching forward, muscles loosening from prolonged tension, jaw slacking, lips slightly curving at the ends in a small smile: the same smile that chilled his spine, paralyzing him.

And just like that, Sora's entire face went bright red, a blush chaotically scribbled across his cheekbones.

Riku's smile broadened. He _may_ have returned the smile a tad.

Maybe, thought a small fraction of wishful thinking from within the boy, _maybe_ Riku didn't hate his guts _that_ much.

Sora would have occupied additional consideration into the speculation if his stomach had not emitted a very audible rumble.

He saw Riku and Axel look at each other; Axel gave Riku a meaningful glance before turning his eyes back to the front.

Sora's eyes bunched together; partially embarrassed at his stomach and partially agonized by the pain it induced. Having the wind knocked out of him was not one of the top things he would like to remember. He blithely ignored the knowing look on Riku's face.

"Hungry?" The older boy's voice caught Sora by surprise, and he stammered a quiet curse to himself for blushing uncontrollably, chin sinking deeper into Axel's scarf.

He looked up. Riku was still watching—smile still present.

"I guess," whispered Sora, taking note of the shyness in this voice and again cursed to himself. Why did he have to be a jumbling idiot in front of this jackass? "Yeah, I guess," he added more assertively.

"Guess we gotta find a place to eat then," concluded Riku.

"Know any nearby places, Ree?" Axel asked from the steering wheel.

Riku casually peered out the window. "Make a left here, and drive straight ahead. There's a diner that's pretty much opened twenty-four-seven." He then stared back at Sora, who patted his stomach in comfort as it rumbled again. One of Riku's eyebrows rose in amusement.

Sora unconsciously stuck a tongue out at the pain. "This feels awful… And I have this awful headache splitting my brain inside out…" he groaned childishly. Another rumble ensued; the fifteen year old hunched forward, mockingly heaving. He appeared small inside all the black of his hoodie and Axel's scarf, bright yellow shoes peeking from the bottom of his jeans.

"Yeah," offered Riku in sympathy. "I know what you mean. Crystal pinky's aftereffects suck major balls. I remember this one time where I gagged a whole weeks of food because I drank so much of that fruity shit. The funny thing is though," he went on, "is that I craved for cheeseburgers for the rest of the night."

"A cheeseburger with extra-salty fries and a pitcher of ice cold Coke sounds 'bout like heaven to me right now," Sora supplied without much thought. Riku blinked. A snigger arose from Axel's general direction.

After a minute or so of Riku blinking, Riku laughed. It was infectious, and before he could fully comprehend it, Sora was laughing along with him, picturing a composed Riku vomiting copiously everything out of his system. The image was comical; Sora laughed harder.

The laughing spiraled to full blow-out chortling seconds later, the two boys not exactly paying heed to the initial awkwardness that was once between them. Riku opened his mouth—but froze and pulled a 180, prodding an accusation-induced finger at Axel's kitty beanie.

Sora, opening his eyes, straightened to find Riku choking on his own spit.

"How the hell did you manage to start the car without the keys?!" Riku finally hollered. Sora decided to stare out the window once more, one eye cast sideways on Riku, mainly in case he had to halt any attempts of Riku committing homicide.

"I hotwired it," stated Axel in a tone that implied that Riku was nothing but stupid. Sora echoed Axel's admission, as if finding it surreal. An uncomfortable stillness lapsed. "Fine. I didn't hotwire it. I _may_ have stolen your keys."

Riku shot an incredulous glare. "When?"

"Obviously when you weren't looking," mumbled Axel through the cigarette, whilst he entered another intersection and went straight. He rolled his eyes in emphasis. Sora couldn't help but snicker, and for a brief minute, Riku didn't even have the heart to kick the driver's seat again.

-

Squall "Would-rather-want-you-to-refer-to-him-as-Leon-or-have-your-instestines-choke-you-to-death" Leon Leonhart gave a steely glare over his shoulder, and covered himself with his comforter. He closed his eyes rather forcibly and slammed his hand against an ear to block the sounds of his cell phone bouncing on vibrate atop the nightstand beside the bed.

After a few seconds, the vibrating ceased; Leon heaved a sigh of relief. Sinking deeper into his mattress, the twenty-something year old internally bid a goodnight when the phone started vibrating. For the third time in a row.

Leon proceeded to suffocate into his pillow and silently screamed bloody murder.

This night—unlike any other night where he spent most of his evenings perusing through manila folder after manila folder of documents, analyses and assessments—the man had spent in leisure and clemency, effortlessly reading numerous selections of Kate Chopin's and Jane Austen's works in one sitting—a vice he obtained after living with a _pregnant_ feminist for a roommate for nine months—in his favorite bathrobe after resting awhile in his bath.

After his healthy dose of liberated women and Mr. Darcy's impeccable sense of sarcasm, Squall "I-will-strangle-you-when-you're-not-looking-if-you-don't-call-me-Leon" Leon Leonhart settled without delay into his bed and closed his eyes, mind blank and oddly quiet for a change.

That was before the shrill vibrate of his cell shattered his peace, which it continued to do as of now.

Throwing a deft hand, revealing a toned, sculpted torso from the depths of bedding and a sinister grimace exhibited on his features, nose-scar prominent even in the dark, Leon rummaged blindly for a lamp and used his other hand to seize the abomination, the bane of his existence, the plague of life, otherwise known as his cell.

Once, after slamming the earpiece against his ear so brutally that it stung, he heard the voice on the line; though, wished instantaneously to a higher being he had no faith in for a swift death.

Upset, weeping mothers always broke a strong man's spirit.

-

_To be continued…_

-

**Author's Note (PLEASE READ):** And the plot thickens (and I have to say, from the author's point of view, it's gotten crazy)! I looked back at the previous chapters (um, definitely need to revise those, when I have the motivation), and noticed, whoa. Is it weird for Riku to keep milk-stained jeans? I'd love your responses to my question in your reviews, because I'm a dork like that :D

And hey! You might get a glimpse of Sora's and Riku's real kiss together. Just for incentive… If you want it, review your responses and just let me know. I'll PM you back and ask for your email address. And then I'll send the kiss-scene to you early (because with my pace, I'm probably not allowing the boys to indulge until, hmmm, oh, about _ten_ or so chapters later). Am I bribing for reviews? I may be. Or I may not be. That is for you to decide…

But seriously? Reviews are LOVE.


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